Can't Tell Me There's Not A Connection
by Wren Roxen
Summary: Starts (s02e04) with Dean inadvertently developing questionable and unrequited feelings for Sam, after they lose their dad and continually risk their lives to save the world. After Dean finds himself rescued from Hell, Dean forgets about everything he felt about Sam.
1. What Could You Possibly Say?

Dean was driving, mind storming with thoughts as he argued with himself. He was thinking, about his dad, about Sam, about his mother's stupid grave that was nothing more than a stupid rock placed there by some stupid guy who was practically a stranger. But it still stung - the sentiment, the few memories he had of her, the life he could've had if that damn demon wasn't so keen on tearing their family apart. It couldn't let them go with just their mom dead, it had to take over their lives, and then kill their dad too. Their dad, who had been found dead after a miraculous recovery on Dean's part...

He pulled the car over to the side of the road and got out, sitting on the hood. Ever since their dad had died, and Dean had lived in his place, things were different. For Sam, for him. Sam was hurting, and Dean hated it – he couldn't protect his little brother from this. He just put on his brave face, and didn't let on how much _he _was hurting, how guilty he felt, how badly he wanted to just go back and die so his dad didn't have to, and Sammy could be okay again.

Sam followed Dean out of the car, looking around, bewildered. "Dean, what is it?"

_Everything,_ Dean thought. _Everything is wrong and it's my fault._ "I'm sorry."

"You're-" Dean could hear the confusion in Sam's voice, no doubt wondering where this was coming from. Even Dean wasn't sure what had brought it up. It had been coming on for a while now, and he had finally just... cracked. "For what?"

"For the way I've been acting." That didn't even begin to cover it, but Dean just didn't know how to say these things, how to make Sam understand how terrible he felt. Sam sat down beside him, but Dean couldn't look at him. He didn't want to hear that he was forgiven, that it was just because their dad had died and everyone reacts differently to that and – no, that wasn't it. When Sam didn't say anything, Dean knew he had to keep going. He thought for a second, then continued. Because he knew he wasn't just sorry for him, and he had to make Sam know, that he was guilty, it was his fault and he was taking the blame because he knew it. "And for dad. He was your dad too, and it's my fault that he's gone." He felt Sam's eyes on him, but refused to meet them.

"What are you talking about?"

"I know you've been thinking it, so have I," Dean said, as Sam continued to stare, confounded. "It doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Back at the hospital, I made a full recovery. I mean, it was a miracle. And five minutes later, dad's dead and the Colt is gone."

"Dean-"

"You can't tell me there's not a connection." Dean still couldn't look at Sam, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw him shaking his head. He pressed on before Sam tried to tell him he was wrong. "I don't know how the demon was involved, I don't know how the whole thing went down exactly, but dad's dead because of me, and that much I do know."

"No, we _don't_ know that," Sam reproached. "Not for sure."

"Sam," Dean stopped him. "You and dad... were the most important people in my life. And now..." He hesitated, stuck on the word _were._ He felt his eyes water but ignored it."I never should've come back Sam. It wasn't natural. And now look what's coming." He knew Sam wanted to interrupt but kept on. "I was dead, and I should've stayed dead." There was a lump in his throat now, and he could feel it taking over. He clenched his teeth together for a second and then got out one more line. "You wanted to know how I was feeling. Well, that's it."

Sam didn't speak. Because Dean knew he wasn't wrong. _I deserved to die. It should've been me, not dad. _"So tell me," he said, a tear escaping his eye and the mask of bravery almost completely cracking. Because it hurt that even Sammy, who always had something to say, was silent now. Even though he knew he was right, it hurt to have that confirmed by Sam. To know that Sam wanted him dead too, that he'd be suffering less if it was his body they'd burned, not their dad's. "What could you possibly say to make that alright?"

He finally met Sam's gaze, but Sam looked away. _Of course. There's nothing he can tell me. He looks at me and wishes I was dad. 'I wish you were him'. _Dean turned away, forcing himself to keep it together, with every last bit of his will power, but why bother? Sam didn't have to tell him, Dean already knew what he was thinking. He couldn't help the despair that washed over him, because he couldn't change anything. He couldn't fix the hole left by their dad, and he sure as hell couldn't fill it. He just had to live with the fact that _he_ was the reason Sammy was hurting... And he couldn't.

"Dean..."

Dean turned back and Sam was staring at him uncertainly, tears running down his face. He shook his head slightly, as if he were fighting with himself. Still unsure, he slid forward, hand falling to the back of Dean's neck, and Dean didn't figure out what he was planning until it was happening. Sam leaned in, urging his lips against Dean's, his eyes fluttering closed.

_No no no no no. _Everything down to Dean's very core screamed in opposition of the idea. These sort of things couldn't just... happen. Not now, not like this... No, not ever! But he wasn't pulling away. Something about Sam... he was the only one who could get him to see things differently, the one who didn't just see black and white. Just like when they had found the vampires who didn't kill people, and Sam had made him realize that not everything was evil. It wasn't so simple as good or bad. So Dean allowed his eyes to close, allowed himself to feel, instead of just think.

And it felt good. He wanted it. He wanted _Sam. _His mind repelled the thought, but he pushed past that. This feeling, it was better than he had felt since... well, since he'd found Sam at school, after having not seen him for two years. But it was greater than that. It was more than any feeling the flimsy girls he had been with had ever given him. It was –

Sam jerked away. "I- I'm sorry!"

"No, don't," Dean told him hurriedly. "Don't worry about it. It was fine... more than fine. Just-"

"Forget it happened," Sam said quickly, jumping up. "Let's – let's just go."

_Forget?_

_Right. Just forget about it._


	2. You Can't Run From This

_**02x10 "HUNTED" (The one where Gordon tries to kill Sam and gets arrested.)**_

"C'mon man, I know Sam, better than anyone. He's got more of a conscience than I do. I mean, the guy feels guilty searching the internet for porn." Dean was pleading, tied to a chair as Gordon, the obsessed hunter with a grudge against the brothers, set up trip wires. He knew Sam was smart, but he had a first wire where Sam would no doubt find it, set off the bomb, and be safe. But there was a second wire... Gordon pulled up a chair beside him, indifferent.

"Maybe you're right," he said slowly. "But one day he's gonna be a monster."

"How?" Dean shot at him, glaring. "Huh? How's a guy like Sam become a monster?"

Gordon was shaking his head. "Beats me. But he will-"

"No, you don't know that!" Gordon raised an eyebrow at Dean, looking annoyed and a bit disappointed.

"I'm surprised at you Dean," he told him. "Getting all _emotional_. I'd heard you were more of a professional than this." Dean clenched his jaw together tightly to keep from snapping, then half-smirked. "Look," Gordon continued. "Let's say you were cruising around in that car of yours, and you had little Hitler riding shotgun, right?" Dean glared. "Back when he was just some goofy, crappy artist, but you knew what he was gonna turn into some day. You'd take him out," Gordon snapped his fingers. "No questions, am I right?"

"That's not Sam."

"Yes it is," Gordon returned quickly, resting his arm on Dean's shoulder. "You just can't see it yet... Dean, it's his destiny." Just like Sam was always saying. Sam thought he was destined to become something evil too. But he was wrong, and so was Gordon. Sammy wasn't bad. "Look, I'm sympathetic. He's your brother, you love the guy-"

The words were a direct hit, swinging back everything he'd been thinking lately into focus again. Sam, his feelings for Sam. Sam had kissed him, but then told him to forget it happened. But he hadn't. He wasn't forgetting.

Everything had changed from that moment. Sam had no idea. Dean didn't even realize the impact it would have at the time. But after the kiss and the awkward silence and the whole pretending-nothing-had-happened charade Sam had put on the next morning, it had all affected Dean. Sam truly regretted it, Dean didn't even know why he'd done it, but it didn't matter. He wished he hadn't. And Dean wished he would again. It was all just a mess that Sam was sweeping under the rug and Dean was trying to take out and piece together. But Dean couldn't wish it had never happened. It was just the aftermath that was hurting him.

Gordon got up and gagged Dean, so he couldn't speak anymore. Then he ranted that his dad could've done it. His dad could've killed Sam. Maybe so, but it was different for Dean. "Your dad could've done it... So you're telling me you're not the man he is?" Dean turned his head to shoot daggers at Gordon, and Gordon stood up and stepped away. It was dawning on Dean that he had to do something, soon, or Sam could die. But what could he do? Dean realized he had no hope.

_No. I've got to save Sammy. _That was programmed into his core: Sam's life above his own, always. He'd always put Sam first, always had his back, always... and now what? He was just sitting like ducks waiting for Sam to walk into his death. Running out of time...

He heard clinking. Sam was here, picking the lock of the door. Dean's eyes widened. _No no no no no no no. Sammy. God no._ Gordon glanced at the door, then back to him.

"You hear him?" he asked tauntingly. There was a pause. "Here he comes." And then there was an explosion. Dean yelled, but it was muffled by the cloth. _Sammy! _""Oh no," Gordon uttered. "Not yet... Just wait and see." Dean was panicking, and he still couldn't do anything. He just prayed that there wouldn't be –

A second explosion.

Dean's heart stopped. That was it, Sam was gone. "Sorry Dean," was all Gordon had to say, heartlessly. Dean barely heard it, his ears ringing so loudly and his heart kicking into overdrive. He struggled as Gordon disappeared behind him with a rifle, to see if Sam had managed to survive. Dean's mind was screaming, everything a painful reminder that _Sam might be dead_, and if not, he would be very soon. His thoughts were so jumbled he just stopped everything. He still couldn't hear, not Gordon's footsteps that he would normally pick up, not a spoken word under his breath, not even the click of a gun. But he did hear the yell.

"Put it down _now_!"

_Sam!_ That was Sam's voice! Sam was alive! His heart was probably pissed as it skipped a beat again, but he didn't care. He could hear voices, but couldn't make out words. It didn't matter, Sam was alive. But then there was grunts, the sounds of punches, and a loud bang as someone apparently went through a wall. He was fairly sure it was Sam, and he pulled on his restraints. He couldn't have Sam alive and then lose him _again_. But a moment later, the scuffling ceased, and someone was approaching. Dean turned but he couldn't tell. And then he saw Sam.

Beaten up and a bit worse for wear, but he was Sam, and he was safe and alive and okay. He knelt down beside him, looking exhausted, and just barely untied Dean's left hand. Dean quickly undid the other and tore off the gag. He jumped up, grabbing Sam by the shoulders and heaving him to stand. His hand fell in place at his neck and he surveyed the damage, cuts and looming bruises, Sam's tired and pained eyes. Gordon was still back there, not dead.

Not yet.

"Son of a bitch-"

"Dean," Sam said quickly. "No."

"I let him live once, I'm not making the same mistake twice!"

"Trust me," Sam said, meeting Dean's eyes. "Gordon's taken care of." Dean's resolve wavered as he stared at Sammy, who looked pretty... defeated. "Come on..." He grabbed Dean's jacket and pulled him away, leading him outside. Dean noticed he was barely on his feet, stumbling about, and he wanted to get him out, away from that psycho. He also wanted himself away from Gordon, before he killed him.

They were halfway down the driveway when Gordon came out, shooting. Dean booked it, then paused for Sam, who wasn't so fast at the moment, slightly dazed. "Come on!" They ran across the road, diving into a ditch. "You call this taken care of?!" Gordon kept shooting as they ducked out of sight, just waiting. "What the hell are we doing?"

"Just... trust me on this, alright?" Sam didn't sound completely certain, and Dean was about to try and tell him to run when they heard screeching tires and a siren. From the bushes, they watched as police officers shouted at and cuffed Gordon, taking him away. Dean noticed Sam's boyish grin, thoroughly amused, and couldn't help but smile too as Gordon glared their way. When the police opened Gordon's car and found all his weapons, Sam whispered, "Anonymous tip." Dean's grin widened, and he couldn't help but love his brother so much at that moment.

"You're a fine, upstanding citizen, Sam," Dean told him, meeting his eyes and sharing the small moment of joy. They both had survived, Gordon was going to be locked up. _Sammy is okay._

_"_

"You almost died, Sammy," Dean was telling him. "I was friggin' worried."

Sam offered a small smile. "C'mon, you gotta give me some credit. I got us out of trouble right?" He punched Dean's shoulder. They reached the Impala, where Dean had left it, and he smiled. It was all over. At least for now. But then he remembered...

"Hold on, I have to call someone," Dean said as Sam opened his car door. "Just give me a second." He dialed the Road House's number, suddenly full of anger, and Ellen picked up.

"Hello?"

""Hey Ellen, it's Dean. We just got done getting Gordon Walker put in jail. He tried to kill Sam."

There was silence for a moment. "Gordon Walker was hunting Sam?"

"Yeah, he almost killed us both because someone over there can't keep their friggin' mouth shut!"

"And you honestly think it was me? Or Ash, or Jo? No way!"

Dean, boiling, wasn't in the mood to be polite. "Well who else knows about Sam?!" he shouted, glancing back at Sam, who was staring at his own phone intently. "Huh? You must've been talking to somebody!"

"You can say a lot of things about us," Ellen told him. "But we aren't disloyal. And we aren't stupid! We haven't breathed a word about this."

"Gordon said he had Road House connections, Ellen."

"And this Road House is full of other hunters," Ellen said coolly. "They're all smart, they're good trackers. Each of them with their own patterns and connections. Look, I could name twelve of 'em right now who are capable of putting this together! I am sorry about what happened Dean, but I can't control these people, or what they choose to believe."

Dean was stilled pissed, but he wasn't getting anywhere with her, and he had to admit, she was right. He let her go.

A few minutes later, they were on the road. They chatted idly for a minute, but Dean just kept thinking about the same thing.

"Dude, if you ever take off like that again..." Dean couldn't think of the words. He could only think about losing Sam. Only remember the pain he felt in the moment when he'd thought he _had _lost him. How horrible it would be if Sam was gone... he couldn't even imagine what he would do. And not now, not with these feeling stirring around and him not knowing, not being sure. Not with his dad gone. Not now, or ever.

"What? You'll kill me?" Sam joked. Dean didn't even smile.

"That's so not funny."

Sam laughed anyway. "Alright. So where to next then?"

"One word: Amsterdam." Sam started to object but Dean kept on. "Come on man! I hear the coffee shops don't even serve coffee!" Just a place with no danger, where him and Sam could be safe, relax, if just for a little while.

"Dean, I'm not gonna just ditch the job-"

"Screw the job!" Dean cried. "Screw it man, I'm sick of the job anyway. We don't get paid, we don't get _thanked_, the only thing we get's bad luck." _Put into situations where you could get hurt, or killed._

"Well... come on, dude, you're a hunter. I mean, it's what you were meant to do-"

"I wasn't meant to do anything," Dean cut in. _No one decides our fates but ourselves. _"I don't believe in any of that destiny crap-"

"You mean you don't believe in _my _destiny?" Sam asked quietly. Dean wanted to yell at him, to tell him he wasn't going to become some evil demon, he wasn't going to be bad, he would always be good, always be Sammy...But it was pointless. He would just have to prove it. There was no use arguing, and he didn't want Sam mad at him anyway.

"Yeah whatever..." Dean muttered. He could feel Sam's eyes on him. He stared ahead.

"Look, Dean I tried running before. I mean, I ran all the way to California and look what happened. You _can't _run from this. And you can't protect me." He turned then, shooting a somewhat annoyed glance at Sam. It felt like some unintentional double-meaning. _You can't run from this. _Can't run from Sam, from what you feel for him...

"I can try," he said. Not sure who he was talking to, he looked away again. Sam just kept staring.

"Thanks for that," Sam said, and Dean just nodded as if it didn't mean everything to him. "Look, Dean... I'm gonna keep hunting. I mean, whatever's coming, I'm taking it head on. So if you really wanna watch my back, I guess you're gonna have to stick around." _Really Sam? You wanna play dirty? That's just cruel_. But he was right.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Dean grinned. _I guess I'm sticking around._


	3. All There Is Left

_**02x17 "HEART" (The one with Madison the werewolf.)**_

Dean was sitting alone in their hotel room. Sam hadn't come home that night, after Dean had left him at Madison's. They had cured her – killed the bloodline and now she was saved from being a werewolf. Dean could see the sparks between them, so he'd left them alone and now he had all night to himself and his thoughts.

That was the last thing he wanted. While Sam was sleeping with some girl and having fun and being happy, he was alone, without any shallow girls to keep him company, without Sam. He hadn't forgotten, even if Sam wanted him to, even if he _should _have. What was the point in holding on to that memory? It's not like it would ever happen again. But night after night he relived it, and maybe that was foolish and maybe he hated himself for it, but... He was going off a kiss that would never be repeated.

_Of all the friggin' people, Dean._ Why, _why_ would he fall for Sammy, the one person guaranteed to never love him back? At least, not in the right way. And he would keep himself up for the rest of forever no doubt, haunted. Demons, ghosts, spirits, he could take those and not even blink, but this... This was truly torture. _Stupid, Dean, you're so stupid._

Early in the morning, there was banging on his door, loud, obnoxious – what the hell did this person want? But when Dean opened the door, he saw a distressed-looking Sam. Not exactly what he'd expected after what had undoubtedly unfolded last night. What could she have possibly done?

"She – turned," Sam panted. "I couldn't grab her in time."

_Crap._ Dean could see the worry radiating from Sam and masked his own. He also couldn't help but noticing that Sam's shirt was missing, but he let the drop. "We'll find her Sammy."

_It hadn't worked._ They were sure – their dad had said killing the bloodline would probably work, but apparently not. They had contacted other hunters who didn't know what else could be done to kill werewolves. Other than the obvious. Dean grabbed the gun with the silver bullets and closed the door behind him, following after Sam who had already hurried off without him. _He's really worried. What, guy gets laid once and falls in love?_ Dean couldn't even find it funny though. This was Sammy, and it hurt him to see him this way.

Sam was going on about how Bobby had said severing the bloodline wouldn't work when Dean caught up to him.

"How come she didn't turn when we were with her?" Dean wondered aloud.

"Dean-"

"So what, you put her to bed and then she wolfed out?" Dean asked. "Maybe she's gotta be asleep."

"What the hell does it matter, Dean?" Sam interrupted. "Look, we gotta find some way to help her, some legend we missed or something!" Always trying to help, no matter how evil, no matter how dangerous. Sam was too kind-hearted, to everyone else but Dean, it felt.

"If there was, don't you think someone we know would've known it?" Dean snapped.

"Well then, we have to look harder, until we find something!" Why was he trying so hard to protect this thing?

"Sammy, I don't think we have a choice here anymore."

Sam's eyebrows knitted together in confusion and slight disbelief. "What?"

"I hate to say it, she's a sweet girl, but part of her is-"

"Evil?" Sam cut in, giving him a slightly incredulous look. _No, don't pull that card._ "Yeah, that's what they say about me, Dean." _Damn it Sam, don't. _"So me you won't kill but her you're just gonna blow away?"

Sam's phone rang then, interrupting him. He answered it, then immediately turned from angry to somewhat wildly concerned.

"Madison! Where are you?" He jumped into action, heading towards the car, still talking. A moment later he was stumbling across his words trying to get out where she was, and Dean was driving as fast as he could. He knew this meant a lot to Sam, and also, this was a werewolf on the loose. Not likely to be dangerous now, but she had to be dealt with soon.

When they reached the point where Madison had said she was, Sam jumped out of the car, and a second later the girl came into view – wearing his shirt. She jumped into Sam's arms and Dean stood a bit away, watching, burning inside. Angry, annoyed – jealous. They drove back to her apartment and Sam sat her down, the concern never leaving his eyes. She told them she couldn't remember what had happened, but she guessed she'd probably killed someone.

_Yeah, _Dean thought. _Because that's what your kind does. Kills without even thinking about it._ But the look on Sam's face made Dean bite his tongue, holding back any snide comments and only saying, "There's no way to know yet."

"Is there something else we can try?" she asked. Dean was about to say "I can shoot you and end this" but Sam told her he would find something. Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _She's dangerous, out of control, why even try?_

"There's gotta be some answer, somewhere," Sam said.

"That's not entirely true," Dean couldn't refrain from saying, instantly regretting it. He added, more lightly. "Madison, you deserve to know. We've scoured every source, there's just no cure for it."

She turned to Sam. "Is he right?"

Dean wanted to snap, that what, his word wasn't good enough? But he saw the look on Sam's face, could see that he was doing his best to hold it together, but he was breaking. He stepped away from Madison quickly, turning his back.

"We could lock her up at night," Dean suggested almost sarcastically. "But if you bust out, and some night you will... someone else dies." Dean knew what he was implying, and he wanted to lash harsh words at her, but Sam was there, and he knew what he was saying would cut him just as bad. "I'm sorry, I am." His eyes flickered up to Sam's, but hejust looked away.

Madison sighed. "So, I guess that's all there is to it then." _Yes._

"Stop it," Sam told her. "Don't talk like that-"

"Sam, I don't wanna hurt anyone else. I don't wanna hurt you." Her voice broke, but she picked up the gun, and took a step towards Sam. He rejected it. "I can't do it myself," she told him, and then held it out to him. "I need you to help me."

Dean could've screamed. _How could you do that, you selfish bitch?! _What the hell was her problem, why would she make it that much harder for him?

"I'm a monster," Dean heard her say. _Friggin' right. You deserve to die._ He kept himself calm, but he wouldn't let Sam go through with this. He wouldn't let her make him. It wasn't fair.

"You don't have to be," Sam told her. "We can find a way, alright? I can. I'm gonna save you." His voice was desperate.

"You tried," she said, sounding apologetic. "I know you tried. This is all there is left." She glanced down at the gun. He was staring at it, as if willing it to disappear. "Sam. I want it to be you." Dean couldn't believe she would actually be so selfish. Didn't she realize that Sam would have to carry that around for the rest of his life?

"I can't!"

"I don't wanna die, I don't," Madison said, tears rolling down her face. "But I can't live like this." Sam was cracking, Dean could tell. He inhaled deeply to keep it together, but Dean could practically feel the lump in his throat, see his heart shattering. "This is the way you can help me. Please. I'm asking you to save me." Sam was barely holding on, and she just kept digging deeper. His face fell, and Dean couldn't take it. He stood up and crossed the room, taking the gun out of Madison's hand. Sam's eyes looked up at his in wonder, and then back down to Madison's. Then he stepped away from her and left the room. Dean felt the urge to shoot her while he had the chance, but just resisted, following after his brother.

Sam was in the bathroom, his back turned, shaking. Dean's anger faded as his protective side took over. Sammy was hurt.

"Sam," he began, but he was interrupted.

"No, you're right," Sam said, turning. Dean saw tears stream down his cheeks and clenched his jaw together to stop from breaking down himself. _Sammy's hurting and I can't fix it. _He didn't know what to say, he just knew he couldn't let this go on. He couldn't stand to see Sam like this.

"Sammy, I got this one, I'll do it," he told him, but Sam disagreed.

"She asked me to," Sam countered, and Dean knew he was going to, knew he thought he had to. And Dean couldn't keep his facade. He knew Sam was going to make sure he was the one, and he was going to carry the burden, live with the pain, force himself to do this. Dean couldn't bear it, but he knew he had to. He had to stay strong for Sam, be there for him, no matter what.

"You don't have to-"

"Yes I do." He held out his hand for the gun. "Please."

Dean slowly passed it over, holding onto his gaze and looking for any sign of hesitation. But it wasn't there.

"Just wait here," Sam told him, tears still falling. Dean watched as his back turned. He could see Sam, little Sammy, all grown up but still just broken and bleeding inside, believing he was alone and he to carry this all by himself, having to prove to the world that he was good and he was big enough and he could take care of himself and make the right decisions even if it meant losing the things he cared about. Even if he could never fall in love or even look or ever be truly happy, because he had to save the world. Sam glanced back at him once, and then was determined. And Dean knew that he couldn't ever be a replacement, Dean would never be good enough to make Sam smile, make him happy, no matter how hard he tried. And when Dean heard the gunshot, he knew Sam was just killing off another chance to have a happy life, knew this was his fault because he had dragged him into all this, knew he was useless and Sam was broken and he just kept getting more and more pieces taken out of him and Dean wasn't doing a damn thing to replace those pieces, in fact he just kept leading him to be more damaged. But even though right then he wanted to take the gun from Sam and put a bullet to his own brain, end the progression of bullshit he brought into Sam's life, give him at least a fighting chance, he couldn't. Sam couldn't see him weak like that, not right now.

He wiped at his face, clearing any trace of tears and slowly stepped out into the living room, where he found Sammy crouched on the floor, sobbing. He knelt down on the floor beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Sammy..."

Sam looked up, eyes red and tears gushing. Then he collapsed into Dean's shoulder, hugging him tightly and shaking.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean mumbled. He just held him for a while, rubbing his back soothingly and holding back his own tears.

"Why – why do I have to lose everyone?" Sam finally choked out, holding himself up and looking into Dean's eyes for answers. Dean didn't know, why they were so unlucky. Just part of the job, but that didn't make it any easier.

"You've still got me, Sammy," Dean promised. "You'll always have me."

**Bam. Two chapters. (You're welcome.) I think they were mediocre, but I tried. I guess I'm continuing this as the feels hit. There isn't gonna be smooth continuation (like the show, it picks up at random places, but it's still following the same story line). Anyways, let me know what you think. Note: I'll likely update late at night because I have school, I'm easily distracted, and it takes me 1-2 hours to write a chapter because I'm writing as I watch. (I watch an episode, then go back and rewatch parts to get direct quotes and see facial expressions, etc.)**


	4. End of the World

_**02x21 & 02x22 (All Hell Breaks Loose)**_

Sam was gone. Dean had no idea where – he had just disappeared and all that was left behind were dead bodies - but he'd called the Road House and Ash knew something. Not that he was telling, but that was all Dean had to go on. That was all he had to find Sam. He and Bobby drove out to the House, Dean's mind slightly chaotic, foot heavy on the gas pedal, not worrying about anything in the world but _Sam was gone _and he had to find him before anything bad happened. All he knew was he needed the information Ash had, and that was all that kept him almost sane. But when they drove up to the Road House – or rather, the smoking remains of the place – Dean's heart dropped.

"What the hell?"

The place was unrecognizable, a couple parts of the outer wall charred, the rest of it a bunch of rubble, still hot. Dean didn't even want to get out, to look at whatever was left, bodies burnt to be unidentifiable. But he forced himself to scour the place, to find out if he had lost his friends. He and Bobby looked around, and at first Dean watched his footing, but he quickly stopped bothering – no one survived this, and if they had, they were in enough pain that him stepping on them wouldn't even matter.

"D'you see Ellen?" he asked Bobby.

"No," he was answered. "No Ash either."

_That's all this place is now, just ash._ Just then, Dean noticed something – a watch. On a wrist. Ash's watch. Ash's wrist.

"Ash, damn it," he muttered, upset that Ash was dead but mostly because how could he find Sam now? He would never know what Ash had wanted to tell him. He glanced at Bobby, who returned a slightly hopeless frown. _Now what? Sam's out there somewhere, what if he's – _No. He was going to find Sam, he wouldn't let anyone hurt him. Why did this even happen? Ash had said he had information that he couldn't say over the phone, and then the House was burned down? That was no coincidence.

"What the hell did Ash know?" Dean grumbled. "We've got no way of knowing where Ellen is. Or if she's even alive." He thought of Ellen, imagining her dead. Gone, just like that. Like Ash. Like his dad. And maybe Sam. No, Sam was alive. Somewhere, he was living, breathing, fine. Dean was losing control over the tormenting thoughts teasing his mind. No matter how much he told himself _Sam's okay, he's okay, _he couldn't shake the nagging voice. _How do you know?_ "We got no clue what the hell Ash was gonna tell us, now _how the hell are we gonna find Sam_?"

"We'll find him," Bobby said reassuringly. Dean wanted to object, wanted to snap at him, rip his head off, he was just so damn mad at the demons and wanted to lash out at something, but then there was a searing pain behind his eyes, and he stopped, wincing. Something shot through him, and he gasped, pressing his palms against his eyes. And then, he was fairly certain he saw an image.

"What was _that_?" Bobby asked him as he straightened up, the attack apparently over.

"I dunno," Dean told him, confused. "A headache?" He tried to recall what the image was he'd seen, but it had happened so fast he wasn't sure it was anything at all.

"Do you get headaches like that a lot?" Bobby asked a bit skeptically.

"No." Dean shook his head, out of breath. "No. Must be the stress." He laughed half-heartedly. "I coulda sworn I saw something," he said, covering his eyes with a hand. It had been... No, he just couldn't remember.

"What d'ya mean?" Bobby asked quickly. "Like, you mean like a vision, like what Sam gets?"

"What? No!" Dean refuted hurriedly. The whole idea was ridiculous to him. _Visions_, that was... well, he hardly believed it when Sam told him about his visions, even if they did come true.

"I'm just sayin'..."

"Come on, I'm not a psychic!" He had just gotten the words out when the pain struck again, and he crumpled. This time he saw it – an engraved bell, and _Sam._ He distantly heard Bobby asking if he was okay, and tried to pull himself together, leaning against the Impala.

"I saw Sam," he panted. "I saw him, Bobby."

"It _was _a vision," Bobby stated.

"Yeah." Dean could hardly believe it. Had he somehow inherited Sam's gift? Was it really possible that he had seen him? "I dunno how, but... but yeah." His facade returned as he realized how weak he must have seemed for that moment, and covered by adding, "That was about as fun as getting kicked in the jewels."

Bobby ignored the comment, staying serious. "What else did you see?"

"Uh..." Dean thought. _The bell. _"There was a bell."

"What kinda bell?"

Dean wasn't doing well with being bombarded. His head was still aching. "Uh, like a, a big – a big bell, with a kind of engraving on it, I dunno."

"Engraving? Was it a tree?" Bobby asked. Dean looked up at him. "An oak tree?"

"Yeah, exactly." Dean could see it now, and he wondered how Bobby knew. Then his mind jumped – if Bobby knew this bell, he might-

Bobby nodded. "I know where Sam is."

"

Dean wasn't exactly patient. He had all but thrown Bobby into the Impala and then sped off in the direction he was pointed. Sam was in a _very _haunted and deserted town, maybe alone, maybe with the demon. Maybe being tortured, slowly killed, suffering...

With each thought, the radio got louder, his foot sank lower. Finally, when he was reaching for the volume dial, Bobby pushed his hand away and turned off the radio. Dean shot him a look, but Bobby didn't back down.

"We're going to find him."

Soon after, they pulled up to the point where Bobby said was as far as they would get by car. They would have to walk the rest of the way. They geared up and headed towards the forest, Dean keeping a fast pace that Bobby had difficulty keeping up with. He forced himself not to yell at Bobby, but wouldn't slow down. Sam was somewhere, a couple miles within his reach. He had to get to him before anything else did.

It was a quarter of an hour before they saw the barren town, and Dean had to keep himself from running. They kept wary of people, spirits, Sam, but there was nothing.

"_Sam!_" Dean hollered, and a moment later, he saw him. "Sam!"

"Dean!" He was holding his arm and limping a bit, but when he saw Dean he smiled widely, undoubtedly relieved that he had found him. But behind him, someone who had been laying on the ground – who Dean was pretty sure Sam had been fighting with just before – scrambled up, grabbing a knife.

"_Sam look out!_"

Too slow. The man stabbed the knife into Sam's back, digging it in deep, and he arched, falling to his knees as the man yanked the blade out and took off running. Dean cried out, bolting forward and dropping to catch Sam keep him from losing balance. He grabbed him by his shirt and held him up. Sam's eyes rolled back and he collapsed forward onto Dean's shoulder, but Dean forced him back up.

"Sam!"

Bobby was running after the other guy, but Dean didn't even care. He just held Sam, arms wrapping around him and his hand sliding to his back – where it landed in something sticky. He held up his hand and examined it. It was covered in blood. His mind rejected it.

"Hey, look – look at me," he said, pulling Sam back to meet his eyes. "It's not even that bad. It's not even that bad, alright?" He grabbed his jacket collar and shook him, urgently but gently. "Sammy?" He was barely looking at him, and Dean broke his cover. "_Sam!_" He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but Sam wasn't looking him in the eye, he was hardly there. "Listen to me. We're gonna patch you up, okay? You'll be good as new. I'm gonna take care of you. I'm gonna take care of you, alright?" His voice cracked, and he grabbed Sam by either side of his face. "I've gotcha... That's my job, right? Watch out for my pain in the ass little brother. Sam?" Sam's eyes closed, and Dean pushed his hair out of his face. "Sam? _Sam!_ _Sammy!_" He screamed at him, but his eyes didn't open. Dean stared, speechless, unable to process the impossible. "No. No no no no no no. God, no..."

Sam's body was limp, and Dean pulled him closer, fingers digging tightly into his jacket and tangling into his hair. He didn't notice the rain coming down, or the mud he was kneeling in, or how heavy the weight was leaning against him. It didn't matter, because it was Sam, and he was dead. _No, no, no, he can't be... No._ This wasn't real. It was a nightmare, he would wake up. It wasn't really happening, Sam couldn't be dead...

"_Sam!_" He shook him, shouting, but there was nothing. He could feel the pain washing over him, and clenched his jaw together, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Sam's shoulder, tears falling. _He can't hear me. He's gone. I was too late..._

"Sammy, please... please don't..." There was pressure in his chest, and he rocked back and forth mindlessly, trying to stop himself from shaking. He just stayed there forever, or until Bobby came back and told him they had to go. He told him a hundred times but Dean didn't hear it. He didn't care, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Eventually he cried himself out, and he slowly got up, feeling empty and alien in his own body. It didn't make sense for him to still be alive without Sam. His body couldn't comprehend, and his mind just wouldn't let himself believe it. He carried Sam, shuffling emotionlessly back through the forest to the car, not hearing a thing Bobby was saying to him.

He lay Sam's body in the back seat and drove to Bobby's place, even though Bobby offered to take the wheel. Then he moved Sam to a bed in Bobby's house and just sat there for the rest of the night, staring at Sam, brushing his hair with his fingers occasionally. He eventually got up to grab a case of beer, which he then quickly drank through. Bobby was nice enough to go out and get him a couple more cases, but after two days, Bobby was a bit less sympathetic, and more concerned. Dean wasn't eating, barely slept, didn't do anything except drink and stay with Sam. The first time Dean spoke was when Bobby brought him home a bucket of fried chicken.

"No thanks I'm fine," he muttered, deadpan. Bobby looked into his eyes and could tell Dean didn't even see him. The light was gone from his eyes; Life had left him, and he was more like the things he hunted.

"You should eat something," Bobby told him.

"I said I'm fine," Dean said indifferently, but he left the room to join Bobby, taking a long sip from a bottle. Bobby watched him worriedly.

"Dean..." he began. "I hate to bring this up, I really do, but don't you think maybe it's time... we bury Sam?" Those dead eyes landed on Bobby's, and there was a flicker of emotion. Anger.

"No."

"Well, we could, maybe..."

"What, torch his corpse?" Dean asked coldly. "No. Not yet." Bobby stared at him, seeing how he had practically turned into a zombie, how he was on the verge of insanity, and he felt almost... afraid.

"I want you to come with me," Bobby told him.

"I'm not going anywhere," Dean said quietly, but firmly.

"Dean, please-"

"Why don't you cut me some slack?" Dean hissed, glaring. Bobby knew he was walking on thin ice, but he had a temper that could match Dean's.

"I just don't think you should be _alone_, that's all!"

Alone.

_Sam's gone. Sam is dead, I'm alone._

"I gotta admit, I could use your help," Bobby told him. Dean almost laughed. "Something big is going down... End of the world big-"

"Well then _let it end!_"

Bobby was speechless for a moment, but he recovered. He knew Dean was suffering, wasn't thinking clearly. "You don't mean that."

Dean stood abruptly, his chair screeching on the floor and he stepped towards Bobby threateningly, glaring icily. "You don't think so? Huh? You don't think I've given enough? You don't think I've paid enough?" He cocked his head in Sam's direction. "I'm done with it. All of it. Now, if you know what's good for you, turn around and get the hell out of here." Bobby didn't move, and Dean snapped, shoving him. "_Go!_" Immediately, the rage disappeared when he saw Bobby's shocked face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry... Please just go."

Bobby hesitated for a few seconds, and then left. Dean, gripping the back of his chair, shot a look at Sam, who could've been sleeping.

_He's not sleeping. _

Tears slipped out of the corner of his eyes, and Dean returned to Sam's side.

_He won't ever wake up._


	5. Sell Your Soul For Me

_**02X22 (All Hell Breaks Loose)**_

"You know when we were little, you couldn't've been more than five, you just started asking questions; How come we didn't have a mom, we did we always have to move around, where'd dad go? He'd take off for days at a time. I remember I begged you, 'Quit asking Sammy... man, you don't wanna know'. I just wanted you to be a kid, just for a little while longer. I was trying to protect you... keep you safe. Dad didn't even have to tell me, it was just always my responsibility, you know? It's like I had one job... I had one job, and I screwed it up... I blew it.

"And for that I'm sorry. I guess that's what I do. I let down the people I love. Y'know, I let dad down... and now I guess I'm just supposed to let you down too? How can I? How'm I supposed to live with that? What am I supposed to do? Sammy..."

Night had fallen, and Dean was still at Sam's side, watching over him, feeling lost and in despair. Every day, Sam got further from life, and every day Dean sat and did nothing. "What am I supposed to do?" He didn't want to go on, not without Sam. The world seemed empty and cold and worthless without him. After a lifetime of taking care of him, looking out for him, protecting him... he was just taken right out of Dean's hands. Stolen by a heartless demon that had now killed everyone in his family. But this was the breaking point. This was Sam, who had a life and so much going for him and Dean _needed_ him. He would give _anything_ to have him back now, even sell his own soul...

Dean stood up quickly. _Sell my soul?_ He was out the door, in the Impala, on the road, driving too fast and a bit too drunk but he didn't care. He didn't even have to think about it. He was burying a box with his photo in it before his mind caught up with everything he was doing, and by then it was too late to even question it. But the demon was testing him clearly, because it didn't show up right away.

"C'mon, show your face you bitch!"

"Easy sugar, you'll wake the neighbours," a snide voice teased behind him. He turned and saw the girl – no, _thing_ – and she flashed her red eyes. Then she taunted him. "Excuse me, you're gonna have to give me a moment. Sometimes you have to stop and smell the roses." She stepped too close, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"I should send you straight back to hell," he shot, moving away from her coldly.

"Oh you should," she agreed. "But you won't... And I know why."

She was here for a reason, and Dean wasn't interested in wasting time, so he quickly got to the topic he wanted to discuss. His soul, for Sam's life. But she wasn't so concurrent. "Keep your gutter-soul, it's too tarnished anyway." She wouldn't give him ten years, so he dropped it to five.

"Five years, that's my final offer or no deal."

She smiled deviously, and breathed, "Then no deal." She began to walk away, and added, "Make sure you bury Sam before he starts sinking up the joint." Dean's heart sank. Sam was still dead. Was his life not worth Sam's? No, Sam's was worth so much more than his. This woman could kill him right now if it meant bringing Sam back, and he wouldn't deserve any less.

"Wait."

She turned, throwing hard-hitting words at him, and insulting him along the way. But she agreed to bring Sam back. "And because I'm such a saint," she said, which Dean couldn't even laugh at, because he was giving his soul away and he might die any second. "I'll give you one year, and one year only." A year. Dean could almost live with a year – well, he would live with a year. One more year with Sam, and Sam would have the rest of his life. "But here's the thing: if you try to welch or weasel your way out then the deal is _off_. Sam drops dead and he's back to rotting meat in no time.

"So, that's a better deal than your dad ever got. What d'you say?"

For what it was worth, Dean didn't argue. If it meant saving Sam, he'd do anything. He leaned in and kissed the demon, sealing away the fate of his soul. And that was it.

"

The Impala was pushed to it's speed limit as Dean tried to drive away from the mess he'd just thrown himself in, and tried to get back to Sam. _Did it work? Is he alive?_ The car had barely stopped, the engine still dying down as he rushed to the front door, but he hesitated when he grabbed the handle. He wasn't sure what to expect. But it didn't matter, he had to know, had to see...

Sam was standing beside the bed, examining the wound that had killed him in the mirror. Dean resisted the urge to scream like a little girl and jump into his arms, but he couldn't even laugh at himself for how stupid that would be.

"Sammy," he managed to say. "Thank God." _He's alive, Sam is alive! _He was having trouble functioning properly, reminding himself that he had to breathe, he had to stay calm, he had to try not to tackle Sam because at the moment that's all he wanted to do.

"Hey," Sam said quietly, and Dean quickly closed the space between them, hugging him so tightly he thought he might break him, but it didn't matter because he was alive. He could feel Sam's heart beating against his chest, feel his breath on his neck, and he didn't ever want to let him go.

"Ow, uh, Dean..."

Right, still injured. Dean pulled away slowly and stared at those bright eyes he feared he would never see open again. He took in everything about Sam that he'd taken for granted before. Life radiated in him. His lips moving, forehead crinkling in confusion, eyes flicking between his.

"I'm sorry," he told him, a smile forming as he took it in. Sam was alive. "I'm sorry man, I'm just... I'm just happy to see you up and around, that's all." Sam's face was pinched, clearly still in pain. "Come on, sit down."

Sam nodded, obliging. "Okay... Dean, what happened to me?"

Dean sat too, finally being forced to _think_. He hadn't come up with a story or anything, so he just turned the attention back to Sam. "Well, what do you remember?"

"I-I don- I saw you and Bobby and... then I felt this pain, this sharp pain, like - like white hot, you know? And then you started running at me, and... that's about it."

_So he didn't remember dying. Let's keep it that way. _Dean was quick at brewing up a story – he'd been stabbed in the back, and it was close, but with Bobby's help, they'd saved him. "Who was that kid, anyway?" he asked, distracting Sam from his lie.

"His name's Jake. Did you get him?"

"Nah, he disappeared into the woods."

We gotta find him Dean," Sam said angrily, rising. "And I swear to God I'm gonna tear that bitch apart-"

"Woah woah woah, easy man, damn." Dean was afraid, afraid that Sam might do something to get himself killed. He wouldn't ever let that happen, not again. "You just woke up, alright, let's get you something to eat. You want something to eat?"

Sam nodded fervently, making Dean almost smile. _Just like a little kid. _That was often how he saw Sam, still just a kid, who needed his big brother's protection from the monsters.

"I'm starving, c'mon." He hadn't even noticed – which was odd for Dean because he was always so in tune with his stomach. Food was like sex or the Impala, he wanted it, needed it. But it clearly didn't even matter compared to Sam. He ordered pizza and then they talked about what had happened while Sam had been gone. The demon had basically thrown them in a pit and made them fight their way out.

"You know, what I don't get, Dean, is if the demon only wanted one of us, then how did Jake and I both get away?" Dean had forgotten that Sam was smart, he thought about things, noticed things that were off. He'd hoped Sam wouldn't have seen that loophole, but of course he had.

"Well... I mean, they left you for dead. I'm sure they thought it was over," Dean lied smoothly, taking a bite of pizza to buy him a bit of time. Then he changed the subject again. "So now that Yellow Eyes has Jake, what's he gonna do with him?"

Sam was staring at a distant point, looking irritated. "I dunno. But whatever it is, we've gotta stop it."

"Well now, hold on, alright, you need – you need to get your rest," Dean put in quickly. He couldn't just let Sam go out still wounded and just back from the dead. He wasn't going to march him into another battle when he'd hardly made it out of the last one. He was trying to protect Sam from himself now. "We've got time." _Well, you've got all the time in the world._

"No we don't," Sam said, and Dean felt like he'd read his mind. Like somehow he knew he was on a countdown.

"Sam, oceans aren't boiling, okay? Frogs aren't falling from the sky, let's get you your strength back first," he practically ordered. Sam looked frustrated, and Dean braced for a comeback.

"Well, did you call the Road House, do they know anything?" he asked instead.

"Yeah..." Dean half-laughed, very clearly not amused.

"Dean, what is it?"

Dean sat back down and worry crossed Sam's face. "The Road House, burned to the ground. Ash is dead, probably Ellen, a lot of other hunters too." Dean took a swig of his drink, trying not to think about it.

Sam was silent for a moment, then asked slowly, "Demons?"

"Yeah we think so. We think maybe because Ash found something."

"What did he find?"

"Bobby's working on that right now."

"Well, come on then." Sam began to stand, grimacing in pain, and Dean's brain scrambled. _No, don't let him do anything. Don't let him get hurt. Don't ever lose him again._ Everything about him eliminated the ideas of letting Sam be put into a scenerio where something could happen to him. He didn't even want him near a cat, lest he was scratched. Maybe it was too much, but Dean wasn't letting Sam out of his sight, or back into the real world any time soon.

"Woah woah woah – Sam, stop!" He jumped up, halting Sam in place. "You almost died in there, I mean... what would I've..." The thought broke off, discarded. "You need to just take care of yourself for a little bit... Just for a little bit."

"I'm sorry," Sam mumbled, and Dean knew that whatever crappy act he was putting up, Sam saw right through it. "But no." He also knew that, even though he was upset, Sam still wanted to end this. Now that they were so close to what they'd been fighting their whole lives, he was determined to finish it. Dean didn't want to, but he knew he couldn't fight against him, so he might as well help him as much as he could.

They were driving down the highway when it hit Dean that, _Shit. Sam was dead. Now he's alive. Bobby doesn't know what happened. He's gonna freaking kill me._ And he was right. When Bobby opened the door, he was shocked to see Sam, although he managed to keep it together. But shortly after Bobby asked Dean to help him "get some books from his car" and Dean knew he was screwed. Now would be the time to start praying, if he believed in God.

They were just out of earshot of the house when Bobby turned on him, livid. "You _stupid ass!_ What did you do? _What did you do?!_" He grabbed Dean by the scruff of his shirt and shook him. Dean didn't meet his eyes, and refused to answer. "You made a deal, for Sam, didn't you? How long did they give you? _How long?_"

Dean held back, knowing that when he told him, he'd just make him feel worse about it all. "One year."

Bobby's anger seemed to swell and then drop and he sighed. "Damn it Dean." But he knew. _It was for Sam. All that matters is that Sam is alive now._

"Which is why we've got to find that yellow-eyed son of a bitch," Dean said before he got lectured more. "Which is why I'm gonna kill him myself, I mean, I've got nothing to lose now right?"

"I could _throttle you_!" Bobby told him, grabbing him and almost lifting him off his feet. Okay, so maybe he wasn't as calm as Dean had thought.

"And what, send me downstairs ahead of schedule?" he retorted, smirking. Bobby dropped him and gave him a look of utter disgust.

"What is it with you Winchesters, huh? You, your dad, you're both just itching to throw yourselves down in the pit!"

"_That's my point_," Dean shot. "Dad brought me back, Bobby. I'm not even supposed to be here! At least this way, something good could come out of it you know? It's like my life could mean something."

"What, and it didn't before?" Bobby asked incredulously. "Have you got that low of an opinion of yourself - are you that screwed in the head?!" Bobby shook him again. _I don't care about me._

"I couldn't let him die, Bobby. I couldn't. He's my brother." _I love him. I don't even know how exactly, but I love him one way or another. He means more to me than this whole damn world._

"How's your brother gonna feel, when he knows you're going to hell? How'd _you_ feel when your dad went for you?" That was low. Sam would suffer, because of him. But he would live, he would move on. Eventually he wouldn't even be sad to think about him. He would go on with his life and things would be okay. And he didn't have to know that Dean had died to save him. He could make it seem like an accident or something.

"You can't tell him. You take a shot at me, whatever you gotta do, but please don't tell him." He pleaded with his eyes, tried to get across how much that meant to him. And then they heard a noise. Someone was in the lot. They ducked behind a car, and then jumped out, ready to attack, but it was Ellen.

Ellen! She was alive too! She had escaped, with a great deal of luck, having had gone out to get pretzels. When she'd come back, the Road House had been burnt to the ground. She had also got the information Ash had been planning to tell Dean. There was a hundred-mile Devil's Trap in Wyoming, keeping the demons out of it, or, as Dean suggested, keeping something in? But demons couldn't get in, so what was the problem? But Jake, the guy who had killed Sam, could. And he would, whatever he needed to get in for, the demon would make him. There really was only one option, and Sam was quick to say it.

"We go there." He pointed on the map to the centre of the points, where Dean had earlier found out was an old cemetery. That was it, but clearly, something waited there. And although Dean didn't want Sam walking into that unknown, he knew he couldn't stop him. They already had to hurry because Jake could get there anytime and do who knows what, making things a lot worse and making them a lot less safe than they already were.

"The survivor," Sam said as they were driving to Wyoming, Bobby following behind with Ellen. "Was supposed to be the leader of some sort of demon army. This might be the beginning of the war."

"We're not gonna let that happen," Dean grumbled. "We'll kill him, and that yellow-eyed bastard. We'll end this." _I'm not dying for nothing._ Dean knew he would either die tonight, or within the next year, but he wasn't going down before the damn demon that had haunted them for so long.

A few hours later, they had all taken their places, awaiting Jake in the cemetery. They weren't there long when he showed up, and they quickly cornered him. His eyes passed over each of them and landed on Sam, where he stopped and stared, looking almost terrified.

"Wait, you – you were dead, I killed you!"

"Yeah?" Sam asked icily. "Well next time, finish the job."

"I _did_," Jake retorted. "I cut clean through your spinal cord." Sam glanced slowly at Dean, who looked away. "You can't be alive. You can't be."

Bobby interrupted. "Okay, just take it real easy there son."

"And if I don't?"

"Wait and see." Sam held his gun firmly, keeping it pointed on Jake.

"What, you a tough guy all of a sudden? What are you gonna do, kill me?"

"It's a thought," Sam hissed.

"You had your chance, you couldn't do it."

"I won't make that mistake twice." Dean noticed that Sam was different. More angry, maybe, making him more violent, spastic. He wanted to try and calm him down, but couldn't. _Relax, Sammy. This'll all be over soon._

Jake was laughing. "What are you smiling at, you little bitch?" Dean asked frostily. Jake grinned, and turned his eyes on Ellen.

"Hey lady, do me a favour," he said to her. "And put that gun to your head."

They all watched as Ellen obeyed, uncertain what was happening. Sam glanced from Ellen back to Jake in wonder.

"See, that Ava chick was right," Jake explained. "Once you give in to it, there's all sorts of jedi mind tricks you can learn."

"Let her go!"

"Shoot him," Ellen ordered them.

Jake told them Ellen would be dead before he was, and then commanded them all to put their guns down. "Except you, sweetheart," he told Ellen.

Bobby dropped his weapon first, then Dean, then very slowly, Sam did too.

"Okay, thank you." Jake turned his back and the boys immediately took that chance to help Ellen, knocking her gun away from her as Sam shot at Jake as he got to doing whatever he was doing. They couldn't see, but he seemed to have unlocked the door behind him. But no one cared at the moment, and he fell to the ground. Sam stepped closer, eyes wild, pointing the gun at Jake.

"Please..." Jake begged desperately. Sam shot him, three more times. They were all stunned, but the noise and movement coming from the doors behind him distracted them. Dean walked up to Sam, looking at the now-dead Jake who Sam had so heartlessly wasted, and then glanced up at Sam. He wiped Jake's blood off his face unemotionally, his eyes dark and cold. Dean was about to ask Sam if he was okay when he heard Bobby mutter, "Oh no."

"What is it?" Ellen asked.

"It's Hell."

Dean side-stepped Sam as the door shook violently, and grabbed the apparent key to the doors – the Colt! Then Bobby was yelling at them to take cover and they were all diving behind tombstones as the doors flung open.

"What the hell just happened!?" Dean cried as they saw demons flying everywhere.

"That's a Devil's Gate, a damn door to Hell!"

Dean's first thought was Sam. This was so _not _a good place for him, or any of them, to be right now. The entrance of Hell, of all the damn horrible things...

"Come on, we gotta shut that gate!"

They all scrambled towards the door, but Dean paused, staring down at the Colt. "If the demon gave this to Jake," he muttered to himself. "Then maybe..."

He turned, and there was Yellow-Eyes. Dean aimed the gun but it flew out of his hand into the demon's.

"Shouldn't play with daddy's guns," the demon teased, and then sent him flying, head smashing off the corner of a tombstone. Pain flamed in his forehead, and he wasn't even lucky enough to be knocked out. But then he realized, the demon had the gun, and he'd be after Sam next. He couldn't move though. Everything was blurry and his ears were ringing loudly, blood leaking into his eye. A moment later he heard Sam calling out his name and then the sound of something smashing into something else – in this case, Sam into a tree – and a grunt.

"I'll get to you in a minute, champ," the demon told Sam. "I'm proud of you, knew you had it in you."

Dean slowly pulled himself to be crouching, but the demon tossed him back against the stone and said, "Sit a spell." He came closer and kneeled beside him. "So Dean, I gotta thank you. You see, demons can't resurrect people, unless a deal is made. I know, red tape, it'll drive you nuts. But thanks to you, Sammy's back in rotation! Now I wasn't counting on that, but I'm glad. I liked him better than Jake anyhow." The demon grinned. "Tell me, have you ever heard the expression 'If a deal sounds too good to be true it probably is'?"

"You call that deal good?" Dean spat.

"It's a better shake than your dad ever got," the demon taunted. "You never wondered why. I'm surprised at you, I mean, you saw what your brother just did to Jake right? It was pretty cold right? How certain are you that what you brought back is one hundred percent pure Sam?" Dean frowned, glancing towards Sam, his mind throwing up the walls and allowing himself to feel reassured that, _It's Sam, that's Sam._ But he couldn't help but let the words twist his mind a bit, thinking about how angry, how different Sam seemed since he'd woken up. All he wanted to do was kill, destroy... not even giving Jake a second thought, mercy, or at least an apology. Acting like... well, a demon. "You of all people should know that what's dead should stay dead.

"Anyway, thanks a bunch. I knew I kept you alive for some reason. Until now, anyway." The demon rose. "I couldn'ta done it without your pathetic, self-loathing, self-destructive desire to sacrifice yourself for your family." He pointed the gun at Dean, when Dean saw a figure behind him. Slightly transparent at first, but it grew into a solid form – of his dad.

John Winchester grabbed the demon out of its vessel body and wrestled with it, but it evaded him, slipping back into it's body. But not quickly enough, because Dean had the time to grab the Colt and load it, then shoot the demon. He wasn't even sorry, he was just thankful it was over. The demon's power was released and he and Sam fell, and Bobby and Ellen managed to close the doors. But Dean just saw his dad.

He pushed himself up and walked towards him, staring, speechless. _Dad. _It was just like when they were youngher, seeing his dad after a long hunting trip. But it was so much worse. _Does he know? What I've done?_ John came closer and placed his hand on his shoulder, smiling. Then he glanced in Sam's direction and nodded, tears rolling down his cheek. He took a step back, and with a flash of light, he was gone. Dean looked at Sam, who was crying, and he didn't let himself break.

He turned and walked over to the demon's vessel, allowing it to sink in that it was finally over. "Well, check that off the to-do list."

"You did it," Sam said, somewhat in awe.

"I didn't do it alone."

"Do you think dad really... do you think he really climbed outta Hell?" Sam asked, sending a fleeting look at the point where their dad had vanished.

"The door was open," Dean said lightly. "And he was stubborn enough to do it. That'd be him."

"Where do you think he is now?" Dean wondered if he meant, was their dad in Heaven or Hell? He couldn't answer that though.

"I don't know."

"I kinda can't believe it Dean. Our whole lives has been prepping for this, and I... I kinda don't know what to say."

He couldn't imagine how this was for Sam. For him, he was just relieved that this thing, that had been after Sam all this time, was finally gone. Yeah there were other demons, but what ones were _specifically_ looking for Sam, and _specifically_ wanting him to lead their army? Finally, they would have a little less stress, maybe a greater chance at happiness, now that it was gone. All he cared about was that Sam was alright.

"I do." Dean crouched beside the vessel and told him, "That was for our mom, you son of a bitch."

"

"You know, when Jake saw me, it was like he saw a ghost."

Dean had just opened the Impala's door when Sam leaned against the hood. He closed the door.

"I mean, I know that you heard him Dean, he said he killed me."

This wasn't really something Dean wanted to talk about. Ever. "Well, he was wrong."

"I don't think he was, Dean."

_Damn it Sam. Why do you have to be smart? Why can't you just be naive and innocent? _He just stared at Sam, not saying anything. Better to stay quiet than lie.

"What happened, after I was stabbed?" Sam persisted.

"I already told you."

"Not everything."

He wasn't letting it drop. But Dean didn't want to bring it up, to let Sam down. "Sam, we just killed _the demon_. Can we celebrate for a minute?"

Sam's eyes were boring into his soul, and he couldn't drop his gaze. _How the hell do you do this Sammy?_

"Did I die?"

Dean turned away, shaking his head and laughing.

"Did you sell your soul for me like dad did for you?"

"Aw, come on, no!" Dean yelled. He could feel the accusing tone, feel Sam trying to guilt him, make him feel sorry. He wasn't giving in to it. He didn't regret it.

"Tell me the truth." Sam turned his body towards Dean, stepping closer. "Dean, tell me the truth."

"Sam," Dean said, shaking his head again. He stared at the ground and hoped Sam would just let it drop.

"How long did you get?"

That was it. Dean _heard_ the calamity in Sam's voice, and he looked him in the eye calmly. "One year." He made it seem like it was no big deal. Sam nodded and looked away, eyes watering. "I got one year."

"You shouldn'ta done that. _How could you do that?_"

"Don't get mad at me," Dean was half-pleading. "Don't you do that. I had to. I had to look out for you. That's my job!"

"And what do you think _my_ job is?" Sam returned.

"What?" What, did Sam think he had some responsibility over Dean? _No._ He could take care of himself.

"You saved my life over and over. I mean, you sacrifice everything for me, don't you think I do the same for you?" Dean hadn't really thought about it. But Sam had given up a lot for him. It wasn't just one way. "You're my big brother, there's _nothing_ I wouldn't do for you. But I don't care what it takes, I'm gonna get you out of this. I guess I gotta save your ass for a change."

_No, you can't. I can't get out of this one, and you can't help me. _Those were the terms – try and get out and Sam dies. They couldn't win.

"Well," said a voice behind them. It was Ellen, with Bobby. "They yellow-eyed demon might be dead, but a lot more got through that gate."

"How many do you think?" Dean asked.

"A hundred," Sam guessed. "Maybe two hundred. It's unleashed an army."

"Hope to hell you boys are ready," Bobby told them. "'Cause the war has just begun."

"Well then." Sam turned to Dean, who smiled, and led him to the trunk of the car. _At least I get one more year with you. _He threw the Colt in the trunk and closed it. "We've got work to do."

"

**And so ends Season 2. I realize this chapter was really long, sorry. How am I doing? Reviews would be appreciated, feedback, suggestions, etc. I've already got more ideas from episodes in season 3, as I've watched a third of the season. I might update tomorrow, if not Monday or Tuesday at the latest. Let me know what you think, and spread the word! (Shameless self-promotion :P) I think this is gonna go on for a while, as in, I'll be writing until I catch up (to season 8), I think. Meaning, this is gonna trasition from Dean/Sam to Dean/Cas because Destiel is my OTP. So give it 7-8 chapters and Cas will probably be introduced. (And then we'll all die because Cas is perf.) Anyways, see ya soon!**


	6. Already Dead

**_03x01, x06, x07. (Magnificent Seven, Red Sky at Morning, Fresh Blood)_**

Ever since Dean had told Sam about his contract, Sam had obsessively been searching to find a way to get him out. Dean didn't stop him, because he knew there was nothing to be found, but knew Sam thought that he had to try. Meanwhile, Dean was just trying to enjoy life and kill demons until the clock stopped for him. But Sam was a bit of a buzzkill, always trying to guilt him and constantly reminding him that he was gonna die soon. _Rather me than you._

Still, more often, Sam seemed to be picking fights with him about the contract, about him dying and not caring. After their tango with the Seven Deadly Sin demons, Sam suggested they go to Louisiana to see a hoodoo priest, which Dean immediately shot down.

"No hoodoo spell is gonna break this deal," he told him. _Well, maybe it could, but that would end up with Sam being killed, again. _And that just wasn't an option. "Forget it, you can't help." Sam tried to interrupt, but Dean continued. "We're not going and that's that." Dean headed towards the Impala, but Sam grabbed his arm and turned him back, causing him to raise an eyebrow.

"Y'know what, I've had it," Sam said. "I've been bending over backwards trying to be nice to you, and... I don't care anymore."

"That didn't last long," Dean said, trying to sound carefree.

"Yeah well, you know what? I've been busting my ass trying to keep you alive, Dean, and you act like you couldn't care less."

"It's not like that-"

"Then what's it like, Dean?"

"Sam-"

"Please. Tell me."

Dean shook his head, then met Sam's eyes, searching. _Do you really wanna know? Do I really wanna tell you?_ No doubt what his reaction would be, when he found out. Angry, guilty. That Dean was giving up his life and if he tried to get out of it Sam would just die again. But Sam held his eyes, waiting.

"We trap the crossroads demon, trick it, try to welch our way out of the deal in any way," Dean said, and Sam stayed almost patiently attentive. "You die." Sam's face fell. "Okay? You _die_. Those are the terms, there's no way out of it. If you try to find a way, so help me God, _I'm _gonna stop you."

"How could you make that deal, Dean?" Sam's tone was no longer harsh, but sad and apologetic.

"'Cause I couldn't live with you dead," Dean answered simply. "I couldn't do it."

"So what, now I live and you die?" Sam asked coolly.

"That's the general idea, yeah." He again tried to walk away, but Sam kept his pace and then cut him off.

"Well you're a hypocrite, Dean." He stopped in front of him. Dean was so done with this conversation at this point, but he was curious as to how he was a hypocrite. _Wait... No, don't you even- _"How'd you feel when dad sold his soul for you? 'Cause I was there, I remember. You were twisted, and broken. And now you go and do the same to me." It was slightly accusational, but also saddened. Sam felt sorry that Dean had already lost his dad, and then after losing the last person he had, desperately gave up himself to bring Sam back. But now _he_ would have to lose Dean. "What you did was selfish."

"Yeah, you're right, it was selfish," Dean agreed, because it was true, and because he wanted Sam to let it go. "But I'm okay with it."

"I'm not-"

"Tough. After everything I've done for this family, I think I'm entitled." Sam wasn't the only one who could use the guilt card. But, knowing Sam, he wouldn't drop it until Dean gave him some sort of confession. So, trying to make it easier on Sam, as well as trying to get Sam off his back, he added, "Truth is, I'm tired Sam. I dunno, it's like there's a light at the end of the tunnel." It was cheesy and probably very see-through, but Dean had tried, and that made him feel better anyway.

"It's Hellfire, Dean." Dean almost smiled, because Sam was sounding a bit like him.

"Well whatever. You're alive, I feel fine. I feel better than I have in a long time. I've got a year to live, Sam. I'd like to make the most of it."

Sam finally let him pass, but he said quietly as he went by, "You're unbelievable."

Dean just grinned.

"

"Seriously, Atlantic City?"

They had saved Bela's life, and she felt the need to give them ten grand to get out of their debt. What better to do with money than to go gambling and make more money? This was how Dean's mind worked. He wasn't sorry.

"Hell yeah. Play some roulette, always bet on black." Dean's mind wasn't really in the mood for joking around right now though, he had a nagging thought in his mind. How he'd yelled at Sam earlier after Dean had found the newly fixed Colt missing a bullet, and Sam had admitted to killing the crossroads demon. Dean had been pissed, because, what good would it do? But he'd tried imagining himself in Sam's shoes, and saw things a bit differently. So he had to get it off his chest. "Hey listen, I've been doing some thinking, and Iwant you to know, I understand why you did it. I understand why you went after the crossroads demon."

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, returning his attention to the map. He clearly did not want this to be brought up again, but Dean continued. "You know, if the situation was reversed, I guess I woulda done the same thing." Guess? It would've been without question. If Sam had been stupid enough to make a deal to save him, he would've killed the bitch who stole his soul too, if it would get him out of his contract. And Dean supposed, that if that was how he felt thinking about Sam doing it, Sam was probably struggling with this situation too. "I mean, I'm not blind. I see what you're going through with this deal... me going away and all that. But you're gonna be okay." Dean met Sam's eyes as he half-laughed.

"You think so?" Sam asked him sarcastically.

"Yeah, you'll keep hunting, you'll live your life." _I'm the one dying here, not you. _"You're stronger than me, you are. You'll get over it." Because losing Sam hadn't been an option for Dean. Sam meant everything to him. Sam could find so many other things to live for. Dean wouldn't be able to do the same, he wouldn't want to. He knew Sam would fight until the very end, knew it was hard on him, but it wouldn't be forever. "But I want you to know I'm sorry. I'm sorry for putting you through all this, I am-"

"You know what, Dean? Go screw yourself."

"What?" Where had that even come from? Hadn't Dean just _apologized_? Dean back-tracked in his mind, trying to figure out what the hell he had said that could've offended Sam, but came up blank.

"I don't _want_ an apology from you! And by the way, I'm a big boy now, I can take care of myself."

"Well, _excuse_ me-"

"So would you please quit worrying about _me_?" Sam scorned. "I mean, that's the whole problem in the first place – I don't want you to worry about me Dean, I want you to worry about _you_! I want you to give a crap that you're _dying_." So that's what this was about. Dean smirked. Sam thought he was gonna care that he was dying in his place? No, he wasn't sorry, he wasn't worried, it didn't matter. Sam was here and would be here for a long time, even if they couldn't save Dean. He could get mad, but that wasn't going to change the fact that if one of them was dying, it was gonna be Dean, end of story. _Sorry Sammy, you can hate me the rest of your life, and that's fine with me, but you're gonna have a lifetime to hate me, and that's final. _"So that's it? Nothing else to say for you?"

"I think maybe I'll play craps."

Sam stared at him, amazed and dismayed. "You freaking – you know what? Pull over the car."

"What? You're kidding. Fine, I won't play then-"

"_Pull the car over Dean._"

"Why?" Did Sam seriously think he was just gonna ditch? How did he think that would help him? "Why the hell would I do that?"

"Just pull over, or-" Sam unlocked his door and reached for the handle. Wait, was he actually considering jumping out?

"Christ, Sammy – calm down!" When Sam didn't react, Dean pulled the car over. "Sam, stop." Sam opened the door, and Dean reached over him, pulling it shut. "C'mon, Sammy, don't be ridiculous."

"_Ridiculous?_ You're telling me?" Sam glared at him, pushing his arm away. "_Don't_ talk to me about ridiculous, unless it's about _you_." He turned again to open the door, and Dean grabbed his jacket, yanking him back.

"You listen to me, Sam." Their faces were an inch apart, and Dean could see every detail of those angry eyes. "You can hate me all you want when I'm gone, dance on my grave, I don't care. But you put up with me while I'm still around. Just for one damn year, Sammy, you got that?"

Sam's eyes closed and he frowned before exhaling slowly and letting the tension of his muscles be relieved. Then his eyes flickered open and he lifted the corner of his mouth half-heartedly. "Alright Dean..."

Dean, whose thoughts were clouded by the sudden realization that _Sam was so close to me, and yet it doesn't mean a thing_, sighed, releasing him. "I'm gonna have to put up with you for more a lot than a year though," Sam added quietly. Dean smiled. _At least, you'll try._

"

A few weeks later, during a hunt after a vampire, Dean got a call from Bela asking where they were. He reluctantly told her. The next day, they had a run-in with Gordon Walker and an accomplice, but managed to escape. They holed themselves up in their motel, putting the pieces together. Bela had betrayed them.

"That bitch," Dean muttered, pulling out his phone and dialling her number. She confessed she had led Gordon their way, and, furious, Dean promised to kill her if he saw her again. After he hung up, Sam reminded him that the vampire they'd been hunting was still out there.

"First things first," Dean said.

"Gordon," Sam stated.

"About that – when we find him, or if he finds us... Well I'm just saying, he's not leaving us a whole lot of options." Maybe Gordon was an ass, but he was still human.

"Yeah, I know. We gotta kill him."

"Really? Just like that?" Dean was surprised. Sam wasn't usually one to kill without giving a chance. Although, they had given Gordon more than his fair share. "I thought you would've been like, 'We can't, he's a human, it's wrong'." Dean gave a whiny impression teasingly. Sam remained serious.

"No, I'm done. Gordon's not gonna stop until we're dead." He shrugged. "Or 'til he is."

Dean was impressed, but before he could say so, his phone rang. It was Bela. She had tracked Gordon for them, so they wouldn't kill her. It was a nice thought, and Dean tried to let himself think that it was a fair deal. Before she hung up, she told them the spirit she had contacted had a message for them. "'Leave town, don't go after Gordon.'" Dean didn't know what it meant, but he didn't care. He knew where Gordon was, he was going to put an end to this crap.

They made their way to the place Bela had said Gordon was, but he was gone. The vampire who had been changing the women _was_ there though, as were the women he had changed – who were now beheaded, by Gordon. The vampire told them to kill him, he didn't care. He had lost everyone he loved, and now his chance at a new family. Dean was disgusted, but the man told them he'd been desperate.

"Have you ever been desperate?" the man shot at him sadly. Dean knew the feeling. Wasn't he giving up his own life in what had been an act of desperation and loneliness too? But at least he wasn't turning anyone into a monster. He was only sacrificing himself. "I wasn't thinking. I didn't care anymore. Do you know what that's like, when you just don't give a damn anymore? It's like you're dead already. So go ahead, do it." Dean hated it, but he could understand this creature. He knew how it had been, when Sam had died, and he hadn't even cared if the world ended. He'd felt dead inside, he'd _wanted_ to be dead. _Still, I didn't go around dooming others._

Sam was looking at the beheaded bodies and pointed out that the heads had been ripped off, not cut. The vampire told them he'd changed Gordon, and he regretted it. Then they killed him, Dean not feeling so bad as it sort of put the guy out of his misery anyway, and decided to split up and scout the town. Sam returned before Dean, and was studying a map of the place when he came in. He asked for his phone, smashing it so that Gordon couldn't track them. Meanwhile, Dean resolved that he was going to go after Gordon – alone.

"Sam, you stay here."

"Wha- where're you going now?" Sam asked as he picked up and loaded the Colt.

"I'm going after Gordon," Dean told him casually.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Not alone you're not."

Dean considered knocking Sam out and tying him to a chair, if he was going to argue, but figured that would probably result in more yelling later. "Sam, I don't need you to sign a permission slip, okay? He's after you, not me, and he's turbo-charged. I want you to stay out of harm's way. I'll take care of it." _You've got years, I've got a few months. My life is easier lost than yours._

"Well, Dean, you're not going by yourself, you're gonna get yourself killed!"

"It's just another day at the office. A massively dangerous day at the office-"

"So what, you're the guy with nothing to lose now, huh?" Sam was angry. _Do not want._ This seemed to be becoming recurring, and Dean was getting tired of it. "Let me guess because, what, you're already dead?"

"The shoe fits," Dean shrugged indifferently.

"You know what man, I'm sick and tired of your stupid kamikaze trick-"

"Woah, woah," Dean interrupted. "Kamikaze? I'm more like a ninja."

"That's _not_ funny."

"It's a little funny," Dean said, lip twitching.

"No, it's not."

Dean sobered, standing up and stepping closer to Sam. "What do you want me to do, Sam, huh? Sit around all day writing sad poems about how I'm gonna die? You know what, I got one." Dean grabbed the map, pretending he was writing. "What rhymes with 'Shut up Sam'?"

Sam knocked the map out of his hand. "Drop the attitude Dean. Quit turning everything into a punchline." His eyes burned into Dean's. "And you know something else? Stop trying to act like you're not afraid."

"I'm not."

"You're lying! And you may as well drop it 'cause I can see right through you."

Afraid to die. He couldn't be. He couldn't let Sam see that he was. He just repressed it, until he could almost fool himself. _I'm not scared of Hell._ But it wasn't true. He _was_ afraid. He just wasn't allowed to be – his mind told him he couldn't be weak, couldn't let Sam know that he didn't want to die because then Sam would feel guilty. He knew it was worth it, to die instead of Sam, but it was still this unknown, horrible... well, Hell. Burning for eternity wasn't exactly what Dean thought of as fun.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Dean lied, returning to the counter to pick up the Colt.

"Yeah I do. You're scared, Dean." Dean turned back to look at his brother, who was completely serious. "You're scared because your year's running out and you're still going to Hell." Why could Sam read him so well?

"How do you know that?" Dean asked, not giving away that it was true, just making Sam question himself. But there was no uncertain in Sam's voice when he answered.

"Because I _know _you!"

"Really-"

"Yeah, because I've been following you around my entire life! I mean, I've been looking up to you since I was four, Dean. Studying you, trying to be just like my big brother. So yeah, I know you, better than anyone else in the entire world." Because Dean was the only person Sam had now, which was just the same for him. Sam didn't really have any close friends anymore, and he didn't have any family. Other than Ellen and Bobby, the two were alone, with only each other. Dean was slowly catching on to how selfish he was, how he always thought it was only him who was living this life – but no, he had dragged Sam down with him too.

Sam knew him. And he wasn't wrong. And Dean couldn't hide from him. "This is exactly how you act when you're terrified," Sam said resolutely. Dean dropped his eyes to the floor. "And, I mean, I can't blame you. It's just..." Sam trailed off, and Dean glanced back up at him, surprised that he had cut himself off.

"What?"

Sam gave him a stern '_Are you serious?_' kind of look. "Its just, I wish you would drop the show and be my brother again, 'cause... just 'cause." _'Cause you'll be dead soon._ But Sam was right, and it made Dean reflect on how he'd been acting lately. Like a sword, just cutting down everything and acting completely unaffected, and maybe some of his swings were cutting Sam too. He knew he had to ease up a bit, and have a more careful aim. And also, try to be more open with Sam, because he knew there wasn't much point in shutting him out – he would know anyways. The kid could read minds, Dean was sure. And if that was true, if Sam knew him so well and picked up on these kind of things, did he know about how he felt about him? Dean avoided his eyes, trying to rid the thought.

"Alright, we'll hold up. Cover our scent so he can't track us, wait the night out here."

Sam didn't answer, and Dean reluctantly looked up.

"Sammy, don't you feel sorry for me, okay? I know what I did. I made my choice, and I don't regret it."

"Yeah, and you're an idiot, I know," Sam sighed sadly. "But I know I make this hard on you, and... after what you've done for me, even if it was stupid, I mean... I shouldn't be... I'm just – I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean wanted to tell him not to be, but he just pulled him in for a hug. "We've still got time, right? Let's enjoy it, and if we can't save me, at least we'll've had a fun last year. Don't worry about me until I'm gone."

"It'll be a bit late to worry then," Sam noted.

"Exactly."

Sam let him go, shaking his head. "I'm not giving up on you."

"Yeah, neither am I. And neither is Gordon," he reminded them. "So, let's get moving." He barricaded the door and Sam went to work on hiding their tracks. Then Dean pulled up a chair, and Sam sat down beside him.

"Dean, if he doesn't come here..."

"Then we go look for him tomorrow," Dean finished. "We're gonna end this, here. I've had enough of Gordon's crap. We don't need to be running from anyone on this job, we finish our work. At least he's not human anymore, can't feel guilty killing a monster."

Sam frowned slightly. "You know, they have feelings too." Dean raised an eyebrow, amused. "What? They were humans, they aren't that different from us. They just have a different lifestyle."

"And you could say the same about a serial killer," Dean said. "Doesn't make it okay."

"Serial killers willingly murder. I mean, so do most demons, but vampires kill to survive. It sucks, but it's just how it is I guess."

"'It sucks'? No kidding," Dean joked. "Why're you defending them anyways? They're killers-"

"Oh yeah, and we're just _saints_," Sam muttered sarcastically. Dean shrugged.

"Sam, if we let the monsters live, innocent people die. It's better for one to be sacrificed if it'll save others. Don't start questioning the morals of all this crap, you'll make yourself feel like a bad person." Dean had been there. He had wondered. But he knew it was for the good of his world, and that was the important thing. Leave it to Sam to keep pestering about the minor details.

"Do you question _any _morals?" Sam asked, half-laughing. "Do you even _have_ any morals?"

"Uh... let me get back to you on that one," Dean grinned. "I just do what I want and don't really care what people think. Just part of the job."

"Yeah..." Sam paused. "Dean? Do you think – do you really think I would keep hunting if, well, you know..."

"Of course, why wouldn't you?" Dean assured. "Just don't be like Gordon: crazy, obsessed, seeking revenge. Stay the way you are. Whether I live or not isn't gonna stop any demons. People still are gonna need your help."

"I wouldn't be the same though," Sam told him, standing and leaning over, hands holding either side of the back of Dean's chair, eyes at level with his. Dean's heartbeat flurried, but he told himself not to get excited.

"Sure you will, Sammy," Dean managed to say.

"Stop talking about it like it's a definite thing!" Sam cried. Dean could feel Sam's breath, and held his own, biting his lip in resistance. He wanted Sam to make a move – back away or lean in, but he wasn't pushing him. Sam's eyes stared hard into his. "We're getting you out of this."

"Right," Dean exhaled, heart racing when Sam's eyes wandered down to his lips. But he only jerked away and went to stand by the window to keep watch. _Stupid, Dean. _

_It's not gonna happen._


	7. Heat of the Moment

_**03x10 and 11 ("Dream a Little Dream of Me" and "Mystery Spot")**_

After an attack on Bobby through his dreams, Dean had decided to let Jeremy get into his head so he could take him down. Of course, Sam wouldn't let him go alone without putting up a fight. Dean rejected it at first, because he didn't know what Sam might see. Dean's head was private, and there were thoughts in there that should be left that way. Sam didn't need to know about his worries, fears, feelings... Mostly, his thoughts were dominated by his upcoming death and Sam. But when he fell asleep, he tried thinking about girls, hoping they could mask anything else Sam might stumble upon. He saw Lisa, but then she was gone, and they spotted Jeremy, chasing after him.

And then, out of nowhere, Dean was in a hallway, with wallpaper like the forest he had just disappeared from. _Well, it is a dream. _But where was Sam? He didn't call out to him, in case Jeremy was around, but slowly made his way down the hall, to a door that was opening of its own accord. From inside, he heard slow, constant clicks. He stepped into the room, and saw someone sitting at the desk with their back to him, turning a light on, and then off repeatedly.

"Jeremy?" Dean thought it might be him, but he wasn't sure. He felt like he'd seen them before. Then they turned, standing up, and Dean was faced with none other than himself.

"Hey Dean."

Dean was shocked, but, hey, _it's just a dream_. He grinned and joked, "Well, aren't you a handsome son-of-a-gun?" The second Dean – _man, that's weird_ – didn't even twitch.

"We need to talk." Oh joy. Dean was going to lecture himself, that was his life dream. What crappy advice could he give himself, honestly? Dean wasn't planning on taking him –himself- seriously, but then he figured – this is a dream, constructed by Jeremy, who trapped people in their own heads and torture them. And this was the worst thing he could come up with. Dean wondered how accurate it was, but he wouldn't let that show, so he just nodded and winked.

"I get it, I get it. I'm my own worst nightmare. Is that it?" He and the second Dean circled each other. "Kinda like the Superman 3 junkyard scene, a little mano a mano with myself?"

Second Dean wasn't taking any of his crap though. "Joke all you want, smart-ass. But you can't lie to me, I know the truth. I know how dead you are inside, how worthless you feel. I know how you look into a mirror, and hate what you see." Dean had already accepted that this Dean wasn't really him, just a figment, but it still knew. Of course, Jeremy could dig in his mind and pull up all his weaknesses. And Dean's self-hatred was one of his biggest weaknesses. But he wouldn't let Jeremy think he was winning.

"Sorry pal, that's not gonna work," Dean told him...self. "You're not real."

"Sure I am," second Dean said calmly. "I'm you."

"I don't think so," Dean shot back. "'Cause see, this is my siesta, not yours. All I gotta do is snap my fingers and you go bye-bye." Dean paused for dramatic effect, grinning, then snapped. But second Dean didn't go, didn't even flinch. Dean frowned, then snapped again, but... nothing. He kept trying, and second Dean smiled.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said finally. Then the door slammed behind him. "And neither are you." It locked, and then second Dean held up a gun. "Like I said, we need to talk." Second Dean began his verbal attack, and Dean tried to make him disappear. _It's my dream, not his. Just wake up..._

"You're going to Hell, and you won't lift a finger to stop it," he heard second Dean saying. "Talk about low self-esteem. But then again, I guess it's not much of a life worth saving, now is it? After all, you've got nothing outside of Sam." Second Dean gave him a knowing stare. "You are nothing. You're just mindless and obedient as an attack dog."

"That's not true," Dean said, trying not to get angry, covering with a smirk.

"No?" second Dean countered. "What are the things that you want? What are the things that you dream? I mean, your car? That's dad's. Your favourite leather jacket? Dad's. Your music? Dad's. Do you even have an original thought?" He glared coldly. "No. All there is, is watch out for Sammy, look out for your little brother, boy!" It sounded like his dad, he was right. And Dean couldn't stand that. "You still hear your dad's voice in your head, don't you? Clear as a bell."

"Just shut up," Dean said, but he was ignored.

"I mean, think about it. All he ever did was train you, boss you around. And Sam-" Dean hardened at where this was going. He could attack himself all day, but said anything about Sam, that was crossing a line. "Sam he doted on, Sam he loved."

"I mean it. I'm getting angry." He tried to sound threatening, but second Dean was messing with his head.

"Dad knew who you really were. A good soldier and nothing else. Daddy's blunt little extra-man." Second Dean was returning that confident smirk, much more harshly. "_Your own father_ didn't care whether you lived or died, why should you?"

Dean snapped, shoving the double into the wall. "Son of a bitch! My father was an obsessed bastard!" Second Dean tried to retaliate but Dean had the gun now, and he smashed him over the head with it, twice, then shoved him against the wall. "All that crap he dumped on me about protecting Sam, that was _his_ crap! He's the one who couldn't protect his family!" He hit second Dean again. "He's the one who let mom die, who wasn't there for Sam! I always was! I don't deserve what he put on me, and I don't deserve to go to Hell!" He shot the clone, and then just stared. _I don't want to die. I don't want to go to Hell. I've always been stuck with the responsibility, of taking care of Sam, and now I have to die for it. _Not that he was mad at Sam, or that he wanted Sam dead instead, but he still was terrified. Because he had to die, _he_ had to suffer in eternity. And now he had just killed himself for telling him so – that he was nothing now and Hell would be the only place he would have any slight worth – as kindling for the fire.

He approached his dead self. _Killing a clone of yourself... what good did it do? It doesn't change anything._ But then it's eyes opened, and they were pure black – demon's eyes. Dean jumped back.

"You can't escape me, Dean! You're gonna die! And this, this is what you're gonna become!" Horrified, Dean stepped back. _I'm not gonna become a demon!_ But he remembered what Ruby had said – about how in Hell, you eventually lost your humanity, and that's what demons were made of. The tortured souls of once-humans. Was it so far-fetched the Dean would be like them?

The demon flickered, and then Dean was jolting up, awake, back in the Impala beside Sam.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah... yeah I'm... fine."

"

"Hey Sam, I was wondering... When you were in my head, what'd you see?" They were packing up, preparing to hunt for Bela who had run off with the Colt. They hadn't talked much about what had happened while they'd been dreaming, and Dean was curious as to if Sam's experience had been as bad as his, or if he'd found things in his head that he shouldn't have.

"Just Jeremy," he answered. "He kept me separated from you... Easier to beat my brains out that way, I guess." He'd mentioned that Jeremy had taking a baseball bat to him repeatedly. Dean hated how casual Sam sounded saying it. "What about you? You never said."

_Well, Sammy, I was psychologically tortured by myself and forced to come to terms with the fact that I'm going to Hell and gonna become a damn demon. _"Nothing. I was looking for you the whole time." They got in the car, and Dean hesitated, not sure if he wanted to tell Sam, but... he had to say something. He couldn't just die. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I've been doing something thinking... and... well the thing is... I don't wanna die. I don't wanna go to Hell." Dean was afraid to admit it, but if anyone could help him, he figured Sam would, and wouldn't judge him for it.

"Alright, yeah. We'll find a way to save you."

"'Kay, good." Dean's voice cracked as he flashed back to the demon Dean. _This is what you're gonna become!_ He saw concern burning in Sam's eyes but cut him off before he could start anything cheesy. "I'm fine, I'm fine, I just... I've still got time. Let's just... use it well."

"

Sam watched Dean die a hundred times, a hundred ways, caught in a time loop. Every time Dean died, the next thing that would happen would be _Heat of the Moment_, blaring on the radio. Every. Single. Time. Sam was ready to kill the song, and everyone in this damn town. Why was this happening? But then, one day, he noticed something different. _Something different _in a time loop where nothing changed. And as soon as he realized that change, he was waking up to Asia again.

The man with the strawberry syrup. Every day for a hundred days it had been maple and then it was strawberry? Sam had a hunch, that this wasn't just another man. It was a trickster. They had dealt with tricksters before, killed one. So when they went to the restaurant that day, Sam followed the man when he left. He waited until there was no one around, then threw the man against a gate.

"I know who you are, or should I say _what_." Sam was sick of being here, sick of seeing Dean die. The man pleaded, and Dean was about to tell Sam off, but he ignored him. "It took me a hell of a long time to figure it out. It's your MO that gave you away – going after pompous jerks, giving them their just desserts. Your kind loves that, don't they?"

"Yeah, sure. Just put the stake down!" the man begged, feigning innocence.

"Sam, maybe you should-"

"_No!_" he cried, then returned his attention back to the man. "There's only one creature powerful enough to do what you're doing. Making reality out of nothing, sticking people in time loops... You'd pretty much have to be a god. You have to be a trickster."

"Mister, my name is Ed Coleman," the man said pleadingly. "My wife's name's Amelia. I've got two kids, for cryin' out loud, I sell ad space-"

"_Don't lie to me!_ I know what you are, we've killed one of your kind before!"

Before their eyes, the old man turned into the trickster who they'd thought they'd killed. "Actually bucko? You didn't." _He's still alive?! _He had tricked them. _Of course, he's a freaking trickster, how stupid did we have to be?!_ That didn't really matter at the moment. Sam just wanted to get out of this time loop and not have to see Dean die again.

"Why are you doing this?"

"You're joking, right?" the trickster asked, annoyed. "You chuckleheads tried to kill me last time, why wouldn't I do this?" He thought he was funny. It infuriated Sam.

"You think this is funny? Killing Dean over and over again?"

"One: yes, it is fun. And two: this is so _not _about killing Dean," the trickster told him calmly. "This joke, is on you Sam. Watching your brother die, every day, forever."

"You son of a bitch," he spat. Sam wanted to stake the bastard then and there. How was that funny for him, torturing Sam like this?

"How long will it take you to realize, you can't save your brother, no matter what." They all knew the double meaning. Sam couldn't save Dean from his crossroads deal. Or so the trickster wanted him to believe that. Sam wasn't going to give up until it was far too late.

"Oh yeah? I kill you, this all ends now," Sam threatened, applying pressure to the stake in his neck.

"Woah, okay, okay look," the trickster said hurriedly. "I was just playing around. You can't take a joke? Fine, you're out of it. Tomorrow when you wake up, it's Wednesday. I swear."

No, it wasn't that easy. "You're lying."

"If I am, you know where to find me: having pancakes at the diner." But what if he wasn't there? Sam couldn't just trust someone who lived to lie.

"No. Easier to just kill you," Sam told him.

"Sorry kiddo, can't have that." The trickster snapped his fingers, and Sam was awake. But it wasn't Asia playing anymore! And it was Wednesday! Maybe the trickster was gone but _it was Wednesday!_ At that moment Sam decided that was his new favourite day. Then he got serious, and told Dean they had to leave town right away. Sam was sick of the place.

Ten minutes later, Dean was packing stuff into the car and Sam was just grabbing his bag when he heard a gun shot. He hurried outside, where Dean was lying on the ground, bleeding. _No! This wasn't supposed to happen again! _But it was just the trickster. Sam closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, and opened them again. Dean was still in his arms, and he was still dead.

"I'm supposed to wake up..."

Was this real? After watching Dean die a hundred times, had he actually been killed this time? There was no way. This had to be the trickster. Sam called for him, but he didn't show. He waited, but the guy was gone. _He can't just leave me here with Dean dead. He has to come back, he has to fix this._ But he didn't come back, and Sam decided he would just have to look for him. He had to save Dean. How many times had Dean saved him, and now given up his life for him? He had to find that damn trickster.

But he search was fruitless. He travelled for weeks, and killed other demons, but didn't find who he wanted. Dean stayed dead. Sam woke up every day, scared and alone, but quickly became angry and cold. After a couple months, he was almost inhuman. He wouldn't allow himself to think that _if that trickster doesn't wanna be found, he can make me waste my whole life searching._ He would find him, he would get Dean back. But still he didn't. After six months, he was rampant. He had a lot of dead spirits under his belt and couldn't care less because they weren't that damn trickster. Sam spent half a year without Dean, and started having doubts. He was afraid. What if he'd lost him, without even saying goodbye or anything?

Bobby called, a lot. Sam never returned the favour, but one day, Bobby left him a message, saying he'd found the trickster. That was all he needed to know. The bitch was back at the Mystery Spot, according to Bobby.

When he got there, Bobby told him he hadn't actually found it, but he had a ritual to summon the trickster. But it required blood. A gallon of blood.

"Meaning we have to bleed a person dry," Sam stated.

"And it's gotta be tonight," Bobby told him. "Or not for another fifty years."

"Then let's go get some." Sam began walking out, but Bobby wasn't following him.

"You break my heart, kid," Bobby sighed.

"What?"

"I'm not gonna let you murder an innocent man!"

"Then why'd you bring me here?" What was the point in getting his hopes up, letting him think he could save Dean, if he wasn't going to actually do it? Sam couldn't get that close and just give up. What was one life?

"'Cause it was the only way you'd see me!" Bobby cried. Okay, maybe Sam had become a bit anti-social, but he just wanted his brother back. "'Cause I'm trying to knock some sense into you! Because I thought you'd _back down _from killing a man!"

"You thought wrong," Sam muttered. "Leave the stuff, I'll do it myself."

"I told you, I'm not gonna get let you kill a man-"

"It's none of your damn business what I do!" Sam snapped, glowering.

"You want your brother back so bad," Bobby said, picking up a knife and holding it out for Sam. "Fine."

"What're you talking about?" Sam asked slowly.

"Better me than a civilian," Bobby told him.

"You're crazy Bobby, I'm not killing you-"

"Now _I'm_ the crazy one?" Bobby asked satirically. "I'm old, I'm coming near the end of my trail. But you can keep fighting, saving folk. But you need your brother... so let me give him back to you." He paused, then, before Sam could object, said, "You and Dean, you're the closest thing I have to family. I wanna do this."

Sam couldn't figure it out at first, but he just felt like something was off about Bobby. He didn't seem like himself. But that last line made him realize, this wasn't Bobby. He took out a stake, as Bobby knelt, back turned.

"Yeah, alright. You know why? 'Cause you're not Bobby." Sam staked him, and he fell to the ground. But he didn't return to the trickster's state. He just stayed there, dead. Had he been wrong? Was it really Bobby? He was beginning to worry when Bobby's body disappeared, and the stake flew by him. Sam turned to see the trickster. He wanted to kill him. _Stop messing with my head!_ He just kept torturing him, and Sam couldn't stand it.

"Whoever said Dean was the dysfunctional one," the trickster said. "Has never seen you with a sharp object in your hands." He laughed, but Sam couldn't even get angry. He was so used to being lifeless, he just couldn't even care.

"Bring him back."

The trickster looked at him, slightly amused. "Who, Dean? Didn't my girl send you the flowers? Dean's dead. He ain't coming back." Sam's heart sank. He was really dead? No, he was just screwing with him again.

"Just take us back to the Tuesday – or, Wednesday," Sam begged. "We won't come after you, I swear."

The trickster smirked. "You _swear?_" he mocked.

"Yes," Sam answered immediately.

"I dunno..." he tantalized. "Even if I could-"

"You can!"

"True. But that don't mean I should." _Please. He's all I want. It won't even affect you. _"Sam. There's a lesson here, that I've been trying to drill into your head."

"Lesson?" Sam asked, mystified.

"This obsession to save Dean, the way you two keep sacrificing yourselves for each other – nothing good comes out of it!" the trickster told him. "Just blood, and pain." Sam didn't back down, just stared pleadingly. "Dean's your weakness. The bad guys know it too. It's gonna be the death of you Sam. Sometimes, you just gotta let people go." The trickster started backing away.

"He's my brother."

He raised an eyebrow knowingly. "Yup. And like it or not, this is how life's gonna be without him."

"Please, just..." Sam couldn't speak, but he appealed to the man with his eyes. "Please."

The trickster dropped his head, then rolled his eyes. "It's like talking to a brick wall!" Sam's eyes watered, figuring the guy wouldn't help him. "Okay look, this all stopped being fun months ago... I'm over it."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning, that's for me to know, and you to find out." The trickster snapped his fingers, and then everything was black.

"

Dean woke up in the hotel bed, and saw Sam still asleep. He turned on the radio and got up and dressed, considering waking up Sam but deciding against it. He waited for half an hour, then brushed his teeth. Finally, Sam woke up. _Must've been tired. Tired of the same day I guess._

"Were you gonna sleep all day?" he asked as Sam sat up. He didn't answer, just stared at him. "I know, no Asia. This station sucks." Still nothing.

"It's Wednesday," Sam finally said. _C'mon man, I thought you were working up to something good._

"Yeah, which usually follows Tuesday," he said, returning to the sink. "Turn that thing off," he gestured at the radio. But then Sam just threw off his blankets and walked purposefully towards him, hugging him to a breaking point. He could feel Sam's heart racing, and he just soaked him in. He hadn't lost anything, but Sam had been tortured. For months, from what he'd said.

"Dude, how many Tuesdays did you have?" Dean asked him finally. Sam still didn't let him go, but he was shaking.

"Enough." Finally, he pulled away. "Wait, what do you remember?"

Dean shrugged. "I remember you were pretty whacked out yesterday... I remember catching up with the trickster. That's about it." For some reason, Sam looked like he was about to cry.

"Let's go," was all he said.

"No breakfast?" Dean asked, trying to keep things light.

Sam almost smiled. "No breakfast."

"Alright, I'll pack the car."

"Well, you're not going anywhere alone," Sam said protectively. Was this how he was gonna be now?

"It's the _parking lot_," Dean returned.

"Just, trust me," Sam said, and something in his voice made Dean not want to question him.

"

When Sam woke up and saw that he was back to that Wednesday, he was beyond ecstatic. Dean was back, he was okay, what else mattered? Sam couldn't resist hugging him, which confused Dean, but he didn't care. But when Dean said he was going to go back the car, Sam's mind flipped. He couldn't let Dean go anywhere anymore. He knew Dean would hate it, but Sam felt he had the right to be as overbearing as he pleased. He'd put up with enough in the span of nearly a year.

And now he was scared, of losing Dean, of running out of time. They still had months, but those months would dwindle...

Dean was sitting on Sam's bed, packing, and Sam sat beside him. He didn't know what he was doing. His mind was sort of fuzzy, and he wasn't thinking right, but there was something, that he usually kept in the back of his mind, although it always reminded him it was there, and it was bugging him now. He closed his eyes and his imagination took over.

The trickster had known about it, he was almost sure. But... he'd held back for a while now, only slipping up once. And now, with Dean's death approaching... What if they couldn't save him? Sam had gotten a taste of what it would be like without him, and it was like _he_ was in Hell too. And even though he knew it was a very stupid, terrible idea, and Dean would probably kill him... well, would he? He hadn't before. Sam wasn't sure if he'd imagined it or not, but he'd almost thought... but no, why would he want that? It was just Sam's mind. He was projecting his feelings onto Dean. He shouldn't do it – Dean was gonna take back his contract, or worse, give himself up sooner... Okay maybe he was exaggerating a bit, or was he?

_Sam stop arguing with yourself damn it!_ He shut his mind off, and just acted. Dean was stuffing a shirt into his bag, and Sam grabbed him, tilting his chin up and kissing him. He waited for Dean to punch him, yell at him, something, but instead he just twisted a hand into his hair and pulled him closer. Then he suddenly pushed him away.

"No, no, you're not – that friggin' trickster put you up to this. You're not Sam."

"What?" Sam asked, feeling his face growing warmer. "No, Dean – I'm me! I swear, I mean... I'm sorry, I-"

"I don't believe you," Dean said.

"It's me, Dean. Why would a trickster..." Sam trailed off, embarrassed.

"Because they mess with your mind! They do shit like that, give you something you want and then betray you or whatever!"

Surprised, Sam raised an eyebrow. "Something... you want?"

Dean's eyes widened and he backtracked. "I- I didn't mean – that's not what – I wasn't-" He gave up. "I guess if you're not you it doesn't matter. No point in denying it."

"You mean-" Sam almost felt hopeful. Was he actually saying...

"Yes, I mean that – like it matters! I can't."

Sam smiled, and kissed him carefully. He couldn't believe it. Dean wasn't mad, he was kissing back. But then he broke it off again.

"Is this real?" he asked. Sam's head was cloudy, but he nodded slowly. Dean dragged him back, leaning against the pillows and pulling him down to his mouth. He was rough and frenzied, his lips pressing against Sam's until they parted, then biting his bottom lip. Sam shivered, and Dean yanked on his hair, causing him to groan and Dean to grin. Then he felt Dean push him and flip him onto his back, being thrown onto the bed roughly. Dean trailed down his jaw, then moved to his neck, grazing his teeth there.

"God – Dean!" Sam bit his lip. Dean lifted himself to hang over him, smirking.

"You should get yourself a vampire girlfriend."

Sam sighed, but then he remembered something that sobered him completely.

_Dean's your weakness. The bad guys know it too._ Sam couldn't have feelings for him. It put Dean in danger, and he was already in far enough as it was. Hadn't he just watched him die a hundred times? How could he even be this selfish? The trickster had killed Dean for fun just to hurt Sam, how many other demons could do the same and worse? He had to back off. Until they saved him from thatdeal – but no, there would still be demons if they did get him out of it.

"Dean... we should go."

"What?" Dean met Sam's eyes, not following his train of thought. Sam wasn't sure what he'd got from it, but he guessed he had the wrong idea. Maybe it was better that way. "Oh, yeah, of course..."

Dean slid away from him, and finished packing, no doubt confused at the sudden change of Sam's mind. When he reached the door, he asked if something else had happened, other than the time loop ordeal.

"I just had a really weird dream," Sam lied.

"Clowns or midgets?" Dean joked, and Sam offered a half-hearted smile. When he got to the door, he turned back, and gave a final glance to his bed. The one he'd woken up in a hundred times, where he'd just kissed Dean and found out the feelings he had for him were mutual, and where he'd realized that it didn't even matter. He wished he would've kept arguing with himself until he missed his chance. Then he'd never have known what he knew now, what he had to live with now, unable to do anything because their lives got in the way.

He closed the door, walking away from the future he could never have.

"

**Okay so I loved ep11 because Tuesday. But then I slowly started to really, **_**really**_** hate it because **_**so much feels! **_**And 10 was the same way – good and then it ended in just brutal feels. So I had to write about them – Dean-angst **_**and **_**Sam-angst. Anyways, reviews always appreciated. I might write this weekend – I'll try anyways. :)**


	8. Wanted to Believe There Was a Way

_**03x14 ("Long-Distance Call)**_

Sam had gone to see yet another professor to ask about breaking Dean's contract. Dean was just hanging up the phone after Bobby called when Sam appeared.

"So?" Dean asked, finishing off his sandwich, already anticipating the answer. He was doubtful this professor knew anymore than anyone else.

"So, the professor doesn't know crap." He was right. Wonderful.

"Shocking." Dean refrained from rolling his eyes, just barely. Yeah it pissed him off that they couldn't find anything, but he was still dying if they couldn't get answers. "Well, pack your panties, Sammy, we're hitting the road."

"What? What's up?"

"That was Bobby," Dean gestured at the phone in his pocket. "Some banker guy blew his head off in Ohio. He thinks there's a spirit involved." At least killing a spirit would be more productive than sitting around doing not much of anything.

"So you guys were talking a case?" Sam asked._ What else, Sam?_

"No, we, uh - we were actually talking about our feelings, and then our favourite boy bands – yeah we were talking a case!" Dean was a bit on edge lately, with less than two months to go until his time stopped, and with Sam toying with his emotions. He hadn't really forgiven Sam for leading him on and then letting him down – pretending, once again, that the whole thing had never happened, while Dean kept reliving it night after night.

"So, a spirit, what?" Sam's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Yeah, well the banker was complaining about some electrical problems at his pad for like a week. Phones going haywire, computers flipping on and off." Sam seemed a bit out of it "Is this not ringing your bell?"

"Well, sure, yeah – but Dean, we're on a case."

"Who's?" Dean asked, oblivious. Had Sam just not told him that there was actually work here, because he was pretty sure they'd been doing a whole lot of nothing.

"Yours."

Dean almost laughed. "Yeah, right. Well, coulda fooled me."

"What the hell else have we been doing lately, other than trying to break your deal."

"Chasing our tails, that's what!" Dean retorted, frustrated. "Sam, we've talked to every professor, witch, soothsayer, and two bit carny act in the lower 48 - nobody knows squat. And we can't find Bela, we can't find the Colt, so until we actually find something, I'd like to do my job." Sam gave him a puppy-dog look, and even Dean couldn't fully say he wasn't falling for it.

"Well there's one thing we haven't tried yet." _That stupid Ruby bitch? What is up with her that Sam is so willing to trust her for? She can't help!_

"No."

"Dean, we should summon Ruby-"

"I'm not gonna have this fight with you," Dean said calmly.

"She said she knows how to save you!" Sam pressed.

"Well she can't."

"Oh really, you know that for sure?" Anger levels were rising. _Stay calm, chill out Dean. No use getting angry, it's not gonna save your soul._

"I do."

"How?" Sam asked in disbelief.

"Because she told me, okay?"

This rendered Sam speechless, finally. He just stared for a moment, processing. "What?"

"She told me," Dean repeated. "Flat out, that she could not save me – nobody can."

Sam seemed calm, but Dean knew he was in that angry-calm state, and this only scared him more. He couldn't tell when he was gonna blow. "And you just somehow neglected to mention this to me?" he asked quietly.

"Well, you know, I really don't care what that bitch thinks, and neither should you." Dean spun and made to get away, but why would Sam ever let anything just drop? Why let anything in life be simple?

"So what, now you're keeping secrets from me, Dean?"

Dean halted, and shot him an annoyed look. "You really wanna talk about who's keeping secrets from who?" That did it. He managed to shut Sam up. He didn't say anything more, just walked by irritably. Dean stared up at the sky, almost regretting it. "Now where're you going?"

"Guess I'm going to Ohio!"

"

In Ohio, turns out there was a case. Phone calls from beyond the dead were being made. There was more than one incident, but they couldn't figure out how it was happening.

"What the hell's going on here, Dean?" Sam asked over the phone. They'd both been talking to different victims, who had similar stories but no connections.

"Beats me, but we better find out soon," Dean answered.

"Alright, I'll call you later." Sam hung up, and Dean closed his phone. A second later, it rang again. _What now Sam?_ He answered it, but it wasn't Sam.

It was his dad. "Dean? Dean, is that you?" But the connection broke. _Dad?!_ Had that really been him? He was almost sure, but how? It wasn't impossible, it was happening all over the town, but... what did it mean? Dean stood there in shock for a moment, then tried to call the number back, but got nothing. He called Sam, slightly panicked.

"Dean, what's-"

"Sam, meet me back at the hotel room," Dean said urgently.

"O-okay, what happened?"

"I just got a call. From dad."

"

The moment Sam walked in the door at the hotel, he crossed over to Dean and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Are you okay?" he asked, voice full of concern. Dean shook him off.

"I'm fine," he answered firmly. "Just sorta freaked out. Getting a call from our dead dad and all."

Sam sat down on the edge of the bed. "You really think it was dad?"

"I dunno, maybe." Dean paced nervously.

"Well, what did he sound like?"

Dean sent an exasperated look his way. "Like Oprah!" he said sarcastically. Sam threw up his hands. "Like dad, he sounded like dad, what do you think?"

"What did he say?" Sam asked next. Dean went back to pacing.

"My name."

"That's it?" Sam sounded judgemental, maybe thinking that a couple words really wasn't enough to go on and assume it was their dad. But Dean knew his voice. It was one of the most, if not the most prominent voice in his memory.

"Yeah, the call dropped off," Dean explained. It was great, maybe, to have his dad call, but it also didn't explain anything. But it at least was proof that something was happening in this town.

"But what if it was dad? What if he calls back?" Dean asked, his mind thinking furiously at the whole ordeal. "What do I say?"

"'Hello'," Sam answered, shrugging.

"'Hello'?" Dean repeated skeptically. "_That's_ what you come back with, 'Hello'?" He didn't know why, but that was the little push that sent him over. That was it, he was just sick of Sam. He fought with him, he was trusting a demon, they were getting nowhere finding Bela or getting Dean out of his contract, now his dad was calling and the best thing he could come up with to say to him was _hello_?

Dean stormed out and headed off to be alone. After a while he realized he was being childish and pulled the Impala over to the side of the road, sitting and thinking? What was going on with him? Why was he suddenly PMSing? _Do you want a book?_

He was dying. Every day he got closer to death and there was still nothing standing between him and Hell's gates except a few weeks. That alone would be enough to make someone act a bit out of the ordinary. On top of that, he'd been dealing with his confusing and complicated attraction to Sam for a while now, and when he'd finally come to terms with it – found out the feelings weren't unrequited, the idea wasn't hopeless – Sam cut it off. Hung it up for him to see and then knocked it out of reach. _Just kidding_. That was twice he'd done it, and it just tore his mind to shit.

Dean figured maybe if he could save himself, Sam would change his mind. Maybe he was holding back because he didn't want to get attached now and then just lose him in a couple months. It motivated Dean that much more to try and find a way out.

Later that night, Dean, who had stayed up in hopes of hearing from his dad again, got a call. And his dad told him he'd found a way to save him and Sam both. An old exorcising ritual. He researched it, and it was the real deal. The next morning, he told Sam, who decided to check it out as well. This was it. This was the key, this could save him _and_ Sam! His dad had told him the demon who held his contract was nearby, and it had been following them lately. Dean found results of demonic omens where they'd been lately, and he didn't know why it was after him, but it didn't matter. Sam however, was unconvinced. When Dean showed him the signs of the omens, he looked them over, not impressed or seeming to really care.

"Don't get too excited, Sammy," Dean told him sarcastically, taking the papers back from him. "You might pull something." He didn't understand why he wasn't more animated, seeing as they finally had an answer to save them.

"Dean, look – I wanna believe this, man, I really do-"

"Then believe it!" Dean snapped. "I mean, if we get this thing, it's Miller time!"

"Yeah, that's another thing," Sam said coolly. "Dad rattles off an exorcism that can kill a demon? I mean, not just send it back to Hell, but _kill_ it?"

"I checked it out," Dean returned immediately, searching for the paper for proof. Sam didn't even glance at it.

"I checked it out to, Dean. And so did Bobby." Sam had told Bobby? And now what, they were gonna say he was wrong? That their dad was wrong?

"Okay, and?"

"Look, it definitely is an exorcism, okay?" Sam said assuringly. "There's just no evidence that it can kill a demon." Dean was on a cloud of denial, though. He was so close...

"No evidence it can't," he countered.

Sam rolled his eyes, sighing hopelessly. "Come on Dean-"

"Hey, as far as I know, the only one of us who's actually been to Hell is dad," Dean argued. "You think maybe he picked up a few tricks down there like which exorcisms _work_?"

"Maybe it does, okay," Sam said, trying to keep him calm as he sensed Dean's rising fury. "Look, I hope it does too, but we just gotta be sure!"

"Why aren't we sure?"

"Because I don't know what's going on around here, Dean!" Unlike Dean, Sam was still trying to focus on the job, and the fact that they hadn't figured out what was causing everything. "I mean, some guy blows his brains out, a little girl is scared out of her wits-"

"Wow man, a couple of civvies are freaked out by some ghosts. News flash: people are _supposed_ to be freaked out by ghosts!" Dean yelled. Sam sighed again, giving up. Dean was cracking, he needed some space.

"Dad tell you where to find the demon?" he asked carefully.

"I'm waiting on the call!" Dean barked.

Sam couldn't be around him anymore, he had to go. He made an excuse to leave and Dean only felt more angry at the abandonment.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?" Dean shot at his back. "For _months_, we've been trying to break this demon deal. Now dad's about to give us the friggin' address and you can't accept it?! The man is dead and you're still butting heads with him!"

"That is _not_ what this is about-"

"Then _what is it?!_"

"The fact is," Sam returned, trying and failing to control his voice. "We've got no hard proof here, Dean. After everything, you're still just going on blind faith!"

"Maybe!" Dean shouted. "Maybe that's all I've got!"

The anger melted off Sam, and Dean wished he hadn't said it. He never wanted to admit to Sam that he was mad, and more prominently, hurt that Sam had given up on him before he'd really given him a chance, and now Dean was about to take the opportunity to save his life and Sam wasn't supporting him. It was almost like he wanted him to die, so he wouldn't have to deal with whatever regret he had. But instead of confronting it, Sam just changed the subject.

"Please, please don't go anywhere until I get back, okay Dean?" Now he was treating him like a freaking child. _Just go away. I can take care of myself_. "Please." Although he tried not to, he couldn't help but catch a glimpse of Sam's face. He was sincerely worried about him. _If he was that concerned, he would be helping me right now._ Sam just shook his head, and walked out. And then Dean realized he was damaging him. He'd just yelled at Sam for caring about the job that _he'd_ wanted to do in the first place! He sat down, staring at the door Sam had just left through, wishing he would come back so he could apologize.

He got a call from his dad shortly after, and went to the location he was given. It turned out to be a soul-sucking demon who was pretending to be people's deceased loved ones and then luring them in to take their souls. Sam ended up fighting and killing it, while Dean fought off a civilian who the demon had convinced that Dean was his daughter's killer. After that was sorted out, Dean returned to the hotel. He was just washing a cut on his face when Sam walked in, face showing signs of being beaten.

"I see they improved your face," Dean joked.

"Right back at you," Sam said less than kindly. Was he still mad? Did he think Dean was still mad at him? They sat on their respective beds in a temporary awkward silence. Finally, Sam broke it. "Hey, um... I'm sorry it wasn't dad."

Dean let that float around in his head for a moment. It wasn't Sam's fault. He was the one who had seen through it, who'd questioned things instead of just trusting. "I gave you a hell of a time on this one. You were right."

"Forget about it," Sam said quickly. _What is with you and wanting me to forget everything? Forget that I hurt you, forget my feelings for you, forget that maybe you have those feelings too... How am I supposed to just block that out?_

"I can't," Dean told him. "I wanted to believe so badly that there was a way out of this. I mean, I'm staring down the barrel of this thing, you know... Hell. For real, forever. And I'm just... I'm scared Sam. I'm _really_ scared." His eyes watered but he refused to break composure. "I guess I was willing to believe anything. You know, last act of a desperate man." He laughed sadly.

"There's nothing wrong with having hope," Sam told him quietly.

"Hope doesn't get you jack squat," Dean shot down. "I can't expect dad to show up with some miracle last-minute. I can't expect anybody to, you know?" He was alone, he truly believed it. "The only person who can get me out of this one is me." _And even then, I can't save myself._

"And me," Sam added. Dean looked up at him, surprised. _You wanna save me Sammy? I give you hell and you still want me to live? Even though you'd be so much better off with me gone?_ Dean couldn't say any of that, but he appreciated the offer.

"'And me'?" he asked mockingly. "Deep revelation, having a real moment here, that's what – that's what you come back with? 'And me'?" Dean gave him a mock-judging stare.

"Do you want a poem?"

"Moment's gone," Dean said, reaching for the remote and turning on the TV. He grabbed two beers and offered one to Sam. "Unbelievable," he muttered, grinning. There was an old movie playing or something, and he was about to change the channel when he heard what they were saying. It was a pretty woman, and undoubtedly the lead character, a young man.

"I have a lot of work to do," the man was saying.

"At the rate you're going, it won't take long," the woman countered. "You'll have everything tidied up again and you'll be off before we even get used to you." That reminded Dean of them. Always showing up somewhere and then disappearing again after a few days. And now, after Sam had just been brought back, Dean was gonna be gone soon.

"I'll be around long enough for you and I to, uh..." the man replied, trailing off. "Well, I'll be around." Dean felt Sam's eyes on him then, and he took a long sip from his beer. A few minutes later, he finished it. He wanted to get drunk, wanted to do something stupid and not feel bad about it. He cracked another beer and Sam seemed to be trying to keep up with him. After an hour, they weren't drunk, but they were intoxicated enough that they weren't in complete control of their actions.

"Sammy," Dean mumbled, his head down but eyes looking up at him through his lashes.

"Dean?"

Dean was hesitant, and he took a final swing from his beer before setting it down and moving in, pushing back against Sam and brusquely kissing him. He could taste the alcohol on both Sam's and his lips, but he didn't care. He trailed tongue along Sam's lower lip, begging Sam to kiss him back, but didn't get much of a response. He pulled away, staring questioningly into his eyes.

"I can't do this, Dean."

"Please," Dean begged. "Please Sammy-"

"I'm sorry Dean, I just can't," Sam told him, looking on the verge of tears.

"Why not? Because I'm gonna die?" Dean asked. "That's all the more reason to-"

"That's not it," Sam said quietly. "I just..." Was he afraid? Dean could show him out of it, show him he didn't have to be. "It's wrong."

"Wrong?" Dean echoed, sitting up. "Wrong? You kiss me twice and now it's _wrong_?"

"I'm sorry, Dean, I shouldn't have done that. It was stupid-"

"Yeah, it was stupid!" Dean cried. "You led me on and then get mad at me for falling for it? Maybe you should've thought about that before you did it, then we wouldn't have this problem!" Dean was devastated knowing that it wasn't because Sam was worried about losing him, it was because he was disgusted by him. He moved away from Sam quickly. "I coulda lived my whole damn life not even giving a second thought to you, and now... Do you want me to just off myself, Sammy? Would that make it easier for you?"

"We both know you wouldn't," Sam told him. "I'm sorry Dean. I just can't do ir. I won't."

The unwavering resolution in his voice was undeniable. The rejection hit Dean hard, and he didn't speak. He just returned to his bed and lay there, until Sam turned off the TV and went to bed, until it was silent, and then Sam's breathing got heavy, and then Dean was pulled under into a black emptiness.

"

**Wow so have I been writing a lot lately? Because I sort of feel like it. Anyways, expect no more from me! Until like, Sunday or so. I'm having fun, but how am I doing? (Also, I'm now two episodes away from season four, :D I'm excited.)**


	9. Off the Hook

_**03x16, 04x01 ("No Rest For the Wicked", "Lazarus Rising")**_

They were down to Dean's last day. Bela had told them Lilith was the demon with his contract, and, if that were true, they knew where Lilith was, but they still had no way to kill her. Dean kept hallucinating – that he was being attacked by hell hounds, that Sam was a demon, that the clock was striking midnight. He was gonna die. Sam wanted to ask for Ruby's help, but Dean wasn't even considering it – she was a lying demon slut, and he had a feeling he was just jerking Sam's chain. He wasn't going to trust her with his _life_.

Sam had gone off, and Bobby was looking for ways to save Dean, and Dean just sat there, fighting the imaginary demons off from his mind. _Soon they'll be torturing you all the time, and you won't be able to escape._ He shook his head. Thinking like that wasn't going to save his ass from Hell. _Come on. Dean, keep it together for a few more hours, otherwise you're gonna die and it's gonna be pathetic._ He just stared blankly at the books he was supposed to be studying, wondering where Sam had even gone. _Wait... He'd been talking about summoning Ruby... would he actually?_

Dean rose, quietly searching for Sam throughout the house, and coming across the ajar basement door. He slipped down the stairs, but the place was empty. He had a feeling Sam was going to summon her down here though, so he painted a Devil's trap on the ceiling, and quickly left again. A few minutes later, he returned to the basement, the door now closed. Someone was in there. He returned to the lower floor, and could smell something burning. Then he heard voices.

"You can save your brother," a female was saying. He caught sight of a slender, blonde-haired girl with her back to him, talking to Sam. _Ruby. Damn it._ "And I can show you how."

"So that's you, huh? Our slutty little Yoda," Dean called out, stepping forward into view. "I knew you'd show up, 'cause I knew _Sam_ wouldn't listen." He shot a glare at Sam, who looked slightly embarrassed. Dean didn't even feel guilty, too busy trying not to kill the demon in front of him. "You're not gonna teach him anything. You understand me – over my _dead body_."

Ruby gave him a smirk. "Well, you're right about that."

Dean ignored her snide comment. "What you are gonna do is give me that knife." She rolled her eyes. "And then you can crawl back to whatever slop you came from, and never bother me and my brother again, are we clear?" This girl, she was as bad as Bela. She was messing with Sam's head, leading him down some demonic road and screwing him over. He didn't know what her big plans for him were, but he was stopping her before she got to that point.

"Your _brother_ is carrying a bomb inside of him, and we'd be _stupid_ not to use it!"

Sam tried to give his input, but Dean didn't want to hear his twisted opinion on the subject. Anything he said was just words from Ruby's mouth, and Ruby knew she could try and use Sam to her advantage to win Dean over. "Sam, don't! C'mon man, what are you, blind? Can't you see that this is a trick?" Ruby tried to interrupt and tell them it wasn't true, but Dean talked over her, clenching a fist together to hold back from smacking her. "She wants you to give in to this whole demonic, psychic whatever, okay? I mean, hell, she probably wants you to be her little _anti-Christ superstar._"

"I _want_ Lilith dead," Ruby put in. Dean rolled his eyes. _Lying bitch._

"Right, because you were human once," Dean said sarcastically. "And you like kittens, and long walks on the beach."

Ruby was as pissed as he was at this point. "I am _so sick_ of proving myself to you! You wanna save yourself, this is how, you dumb, spineless _dick_!" Dean saw something – the glint of her demon-killing knife in her jacket, and got an idea. He threw a punch her way before consciously agreeing on the idea, and he didn't even regret it. _Come at me, bitch._ Ruby just stared at him, wiping her bleeding cut on her sleeve. She acted so suddenly, he didn't have time to brace himself, jabbing a punch, then hurling another. Sam tried to stop her and she knocked him down too. _You think you can trust her? _Dean was thinking as she shot another punch, kicked him, took him down, and kicked him again. Then she pulled him back up and smashed her head against his, sending him flying. _That bitch,_ he thought, head throbbing. But it had been worth it. He grinned, the knife in his hands, holding it up for her to see.

"I'll kill you, you son of a bitch," and she lunged forward, walking right into his Devil's trap.

"Like I said," Dean smirked, glancing at the trap markings and pocketing the knife. "I knew you'd come."

"

Dean was more than willing to let Ruby stay in that trap for the rest of eternity, but Sam didn't seem as comfortable with the idea.

"What if Ruby's right?" he asked uncertainly. "What if I can take out Lilith?"

_You can't. Or rather, you won't, because you're not following some demon's orders to try and save my ass. I won't let that happen._

"Quit staring at me like that," Sam told him. _Quit thinking like an idiot then._ "I don't know what Ruby meant. Maybe we should just go ask her." Dean objected, and was disregarded. "Last time, Lilith snapped her fingers and put thirty demons on our ass, and all we've got is one little knife? I mean, like you said - we go in smart or we don't go in at all." _And you think you becoming a demon's minion is smart?_ "We've got one shot at this, Dean, just one! If there's a surefire way, then maybe we should just talk about it!"

"Sam, we are not going to make the same mistake again," Dean hissed resolutely.

"Yeah, you've said that, but what does it mean?"

"Don't you see a pattern here?" he asked Sam. "Dad's deal, my deal, now this? I mean, every time one of us is up the creek, the other is begging to sell their soul! That's all _this_ is, man." Ruby was just going to take Sam's soul, and then they'd be back to square one.

"Dean..." He'd turned his back on Sam, but Sam came and sat beside him, forcing his attention. "What do you think's gonna happen? This is _me_, I can handle it. And if it'll save you-"

"Why even risk it?" Dean asked quietly. What was the point of starting this loop again? It wasn't even worth it.

"Because you're my brother. Because you did the same thing for me." The words packed as much blow as Ruby's hit, and inside, Dean went down hard. Of course that was all it meant to Sam. They had determined as much, hadn't they?

"Yeah, I know. And look how that turned out," he said coldly. _Dean, you're gonna die today. Do you really want to be mad at Sam, have him hate you?_

"

"All I'm saying... Sammy, all I'm saying is that you're my weak spot." Sam stared at him, surprised that he was actually admitting it. Dean wasn't much of one for showing emotion. Dean, undoubtedly knowing what he was thinking, shrugged. "You are. And I'm yours." _No, please don't make me go through this. I can't just keep letting you down. I can't keep lying to you, not when you might die before I can save you._

"You don't mean that," Sam told him, hoping he'd get the idea. _Any excuse to make him back down._ "We're family-"

"I know," Dean said, although it seemed to go right over his head. "And those sons-of-bitches know it too. I mean, what we'd do for each other, how far we'd go... They're just using it against us." Suddenly, a memory flooded Sam's mind. The trickster had said to him, _Dean's your weakness. The bad guys know it too._ This was the reason Sam kept away from Dean. Because he was afraid Dean would get hurt, and it would be his fault. But what was Dean saying now?

"So what, we just stop looking out for each other?" Sam questioned.

"We stop being martyrs!" Dean insisted, holding up the knife. "We take this knife, and we go after Lilith _our_ way, the way dad taught us to! And if we go down... then we go down swinging." Sam hated how accepting of his own death Dean sounded. Like he knew he was going to die, like it was set in stone, and he just wanted to take down whatever he could before he couldn't. But Sam wouldn't accept it that easily. He wouldn't let him die.

He wasn't going to argue though, so he just turned it around on him. "I think you totally shoulda been jamming to Eye of the Tiger there," he teased.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Bite me. I totally rehearsed that speech, too," he joked in return.

"

As much as Dean loved Bobby, he hated him for calling him out in front of Sam. They had planned to go after Lilith without him, trying to protect him, but Bobby – being Bobby – wasn't letting them. And then he had pointed out that Dean was "wounded" – asking him how many hallucinations he'd had. Sam didn't miss it, but he didn't say anything until they were in the car.

"You're hallucinating? Why didn't you tell m-"

"You know damn well why, Sammy," Dean retorted. "You'd be mad, you'd be an over-bearing parent, you'd do what you do best – be a pain in the ass. Which is exactly what you're gonna do now, so just please, save me the trouble. My dying wish is to not be bitched to death by you, okay?"

Neither of them said anything for a while after that. Dean felt sorry for being a jerk, but he was right, and maybe he could sever some ties to Sam, make it easier for him to let go.

A little while later, Sam spoke up. "Hey Dean? You know, if, uh... If this doesn't go the way we want, I want you to know that-"

"No, no no no," Dean said hurriedly. _Don't do that to me, don't do it to yourself. Don't you say goodbye to me, 'cause I won't. And you'll never let go because you'll just keep waiting. I can't... die, with that. _"You're not gonna bust out the misty goodbye speech, okay? I mean, if this is my last day on Earth, I do not want it to be socially awkward." Too little, too late, the tension was already there now. Both knew what the other was thinking, even without a word said. Dean reached for the radio, and turned it on. Wanted Dead or Alive was playing. _That's a bit ironic._

"Bon Jovi?" Sam asked critically.

"Bon Jovi rocks, on occasion," Dean defended. _And this is definitely an occasion. _To drown out his thoughts, he started singing along, not caring if he was terrible. And then he heard Sam singing too, and got lost in a swell of memories. So many childhood memories with Sam. Almost his whole life had been with Sam, and now, he had reached the end. But like the song said, he was wanted, dead or alive. He couldn't escape if he died, and there was nowhere he could run if he lived. _At least alive, I'd be with Sam._ But was that so much better? Always putting him in danger, dragging him through hell, chancing his life? At least now Sam could stand a chance, maybe go on to something _normal_.

"

They found Lilith, surrounded by the protection of other demons, whose faces Dean could now see. As Bobby had told him, "You're almost Hell's bitch... You can see Hell's other bitches." Lilith was possessing a young girl, and Dean wasn't overjoyed at the prospect of killing her, but they had to. It would save him, it would save the people in this town who were being possessed. But somehow, Ruby had caught up with them – not that they had time to ask questions, because they were spotted by the other demons, and had to book it inside Lilith's house. Dean had to take out the girl's uncooperative dad, and while he moved him out of the way, Sam went after Lilith with the knife. He found her, with her mother, who pleaded with him to kill her. But Dean caught up with him and saw the girl's face – and there was no demon in it. Lilith was gone, again.

"Well," Ruby said as Sam explained what had happened. "I hate to be I-told-you-so."

"Alright Ruby, where is she?" Sam asked. They were running out of time, he couldn't waste it fighting with her right now.

"I don't know."

"Okay, you win," Sam submitted. "What do I have to do? To save Dean? What do you need me to do?"

Dean heard him. And he still wasn't agreeing with this plan. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Shut up for a second," Sam said, smacking him away. "Ruby!"

"You had your chance," Ruby snapped. "You can't just flip a switch! We needed time!"

"Well there's gotta be something! There's gotta be some way, whatever it is, I'll do it!"

Dean pulled him back, and Sam pushed him away again.

"Dean, I'm not gonna let you go to Hell!"

"Yes you are!" Dean yelled. Sam stared at him, not processing. Sam wasn't the type to accept given orders like a soldier. "Yes you are," Dean said more gently. "I'm sorry. I know this is all my fault. But what you're doing... It's not gonna save me, it's only gonna kill you."

"And what am I supposed to do?" Sam uttered.

"Keep fighting." Time was up. Dean knew it. "Take care of my wheels. Sam, remember what dad taught you, okay?" Sam nodded. "And remember what I taught you." Dean forced a smile, just as the clock struck midnight. _Time to go, Cinderella._ He heard the hound, and they all made a run for it. _You can't escape it._ They barricaded in a room, and then Ruby asked for the knife, to fight off the hound. Dean turned, and actually looked at her face for the first time in a while. Her face was different.

"Wait!" he cried. "Sam, that's not Ruby!"

Instinctively, Sam made to stab at the demon, but she pushed him away, and then threw Dean back too. _Lilith._

"I should've seen it before, but you all look alike to me."

Ruby ignored him, approaching Sam. To both the boys' disgust, she kissed him. Then she told them that she wasn't trading Sam for Dean. _She's gonna kill us both. She can't! I gave my life so he could live out his! That traitorous bitch!_

"So is this your big plan?" Dean spat at her. "Drag me to Hell, kill Sam? And then what, become Queen Bitch?"

"I don't answer to puppy chow," she responded snarkily. Dean was stuck, laying on his back on the table, unable to move under Lilith's power. Not taking her eyes off him, she moved to the door, and let the hound in, and it attacked, ripping him apart. Through the pain, all Dean could think was _How can you make Sam watch this?_ He could hear Sam screaming, but then there was silence. And it was all gone.

When he came to, he didn't know where he was. But all he could feel was so much pain. Not to the point where he couldn't even feel anymore, but just before that. And he realized, this was how the rest of eternity would be.

This was Hell.

"

Dean woke up in a black space. He lit a lighter he had in his pocket and saw that the space was a small box, not high enough for him to sit in, and he barely had to move to touch the sides. It was oddly like... _a coffin._

Things slowly came to him. He had died. Now he was alive? He wasn't questioning the how until he got out of the coffin. He tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. He pulled on a board as hard as he could and then, he was suffocating under a mound of dirt. _Smart thinking Dean! _he told himself as he was buried. _I swear to God if you just got brought back and die again so help me! _

He held his breath, trying to stay calm, digging his way out as quickly as he could. It didn't take long – although it felt like forever – for his hand to hit the air, and he dragged himself out painfully. His body hurt all over. And then he remembered the hell hound attack. He'd been destroyed, he was sure! But he didn't think his body was all that wrecked up now. _What the hell is going on?_

He was just thinking things couldn't get weirder, when he stood up, and got a first real glimpse of his surroundings. The trees surrounding what must have been his grave had been taken out by some powerful force. They lay toppled all over the place, flat out. Dean couldn't see any buildings nearby, and wondered if, at some point, there had been, and they'd been taken down in whatever had destroyed the trees. It had to have been a supernatural force, but what exactly was it?

Dean started walking, not having much other choice. He walked for an hour in his beat-up-feeling body, and was ready to give up hope when he saw a building, half a mile away. When he reached it, he found it was a gas station, and it was closed. The sudden concept of time returned to him_. How long was I gone?_ A day, a week? Or maybe, a decade, a century? _What year is it?_

Dean broke into the station, and the first thing he saw was water bottles in a fridge. _Thank God!_ He grabbed one and chugged it down, and then caught sight of a newspaper. The newspaper had a date! Dean grabbed the first one, the newest, and checked the day. Thursday, September 18, 2008. September? Only about four months had passed then. That was good. He could live with that.

He caught sight of a mirror, and went to check over his body. But there were no marks. _I know that attack happened. If I died, I wouldn't've healed... What happened? _He could feel something on his shoulder though, a sort of burning, and his shirt was sticking up in places unnaturally there, so he pulled back the sleeve. On his arm was a red hand print. _What the hell is that?_ He had no possible explanation for it, so he just started to pack up supplies. Having no idea where he was, he figured food and water would be good. He was just checking the till for money when the tv came on. It was all just white noise, and it scared the crap out of him, but he just turned it off. _Sketchy piece of crap_.

Then the radio turned on, not even playing good music, and the TV followed in it's lead. There was a lot of loud noise, and he realized, _Shit, demon!_ He spotted cans of salt and started pouring them on the window when he noticed there was more than just the sound of the tv and radio. There was some high-pitched... something, and it was physically hurting his head. And it wasn't just his imagination – the windows suddenly shattered throughout the building. _What is my life right now?!_

This was ridiculous. He needed to contact someone before he went freaking nuts. _Unless I'm already there._ That seemed like an extremely plausible possibility to him at the moment. He remembered seeing a telephone booth on his way in, and went out, calling first Sam's cell – which was disconnected – and then Bobby's house. Bobby answered, but when he told him it was Dean, he said not to call him again. _He doesn't think it's me. Right, dead. Great._ And then he saw the car. _Come on, really? This is all way too damn convenient. I swear if this is some sort of damn trap..._

He tried to remember anything, his past life, what had happened in the past four months, how the hell he'd come back... He had his memories from the past, but not the after-life, and not coming back to Earth. It was like he was being attacked by that dog and then he'd passed out, and woke up in that coffin.

When he reached Bobby's, there was scuffling, testing – that Dean was Dean and nothing else. Then they talked. Dean explained what he remembered, and then asked about Sam. According to Bobby, he was alive, and he'd been planning on bringing Dean back somehow. _Well, he did._ Dean told Bobby about the gravesight, the force that had been at the gas station, and then showed him the mark on his arm. Whatever it was, it was Sam's doing. A demon, who he'd gone to to make a deal with. Dean's new priority became Sam – wasn't it always? – finding him and killing him. Okay, not _killing_, but yelling a lot at because he'd made a damn deal. They tracked down Sam's phone, to a place not far from Dean's grave. _How ironic, _he thought sarcastically.

When they found the hotel Sam was staying in, found his room number, were only seperated by a door... Dean almost felt excited, although he was pissed at Sam. Maybe it had been zero-time for him, but Sam would be happy to see him alive after four months, right? _No, he won't be surprised, he's the one who did this._

The door of Sam's supposed room was opened by an oblivious female, assuming they were pizza deliverers. They were just leaving when Sam appeared behind her, stopping dead when he caught sight of Dean. He shot a confused glance at Bobby, and then returned his eyes to Dean. Dean gave him a small smile.

"Hey Sammy." _Don't have a heart attack on me_. He looked shocked, good acting, or maybe he hadn't believed the demon he had dealt with. But, as Dean stepped into the room, Sam pulled a knife on him.

"_Who are you?!_" he shrieked.

Dean was stunned, but then managed to answer. "Like you didn't do this!"

Bobby pulled Sam away from him, holding him back. "Do what?!"

"It's him, Sam!" Bobby assured him, but Sam didn't believe it. "I've been through this already, it's him! It's _really_ him!"

Dean stood there, slightly hurt that his brother didn't believe him, and that he was also lying to him, but Sam finally broke through. "But..."

"I know," Dean said. "I look fantastic." _No kidding, my body isn't shredded, I'm doing pretty good._ Sam stared a moment longer, then stepped forward and hugged him. Dean returned it fully, and he could feel the pain Sam had been going through since he'd left. It radiated from every bone. _I'm sorry, Sammy. I'll make it up to you._ Sam finally pushed him back, and the girl spoke up.

"So are you two like... together?" _Really Sam, some shallow slut? Is this what you degrade yourself to?_

"What?" Sam asked, confused. Then he seemed to process the question, and defensively hurried to say, "No! No, he's my brother." _Dude, that's such a no._ Dean pulled a face. When the girl left, Dean was temporarily amused by the fact that Sam didn't even get her name right. But then he remembered, Sam made a deal. _Now, if a demon doesn't kill him, I will_.

"So, what'd it cost?" Dean asked. "To bring me back. Was it just your soul, or was it something worse?"

"You think I made a deal?" Sam asked. "I didn't."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm _not_ lying," Sam said firmly, looking him straight in the eye. _Yeah well, I didn't just crop up because someone thought, hey, let's bring Dean back. That'll be fun!_

"So what, now I'm off the hook and you're on, is that it? You're some demon's bitch-boy? I didn't wanna be saved like this!" _I didn't want my own brother sacrificing his damn soul to some demon just to bring me back. That's not how it works._

"Look, Dean, I wish I had done it alright! I tried everything, and that's the truth!" Dean grabbed Sam by the shirt, but Sam just shoved him off. "I tried opening the Devil's gate, I _tried_ to bargain, but no demon would deal, alright? You were rotting in Hell for months – for _months_, and I couldn't stop it! So I'm sorry it wasn't me, alright? Dean, I'm sorry." He was telling the truth. Dean knew Sam too well, and he knew he wasn't lying. But he was hurting because Dean wouldn't believe him.

"It's okay Sammy," Dean reassured him. "I believe you."

Bobby brought up what they were all thinking. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that Sam's soul is still intact, but, it does raise a sticky question."

"If he didn't pull me out," Dean said. "Then what did?"

"

Bobby had a psychic friend who he decided to call to see if she knew anything, leaving the brothers alone. Sam, seeing the opportunity, took the necklace he'd been wearing the past four months – Dean's necklace – and returned it to him. Then he asked him, about Hell.

"I must've blacked it out," Dean told him. Sam hoped that was true, that he wasn't just lying to make him feel better. But he was pretty sure he was telling the truth. "I don't remember a damn thing."

Sam took a hesitant step forward, resting a hand on Dean's shoulder. There was no price on either of their heads now. "Dean..."

To his surprise, Dean swatted him away. "Hey, don't get all touchy-feely on me, man. Don't tell me you turned into a girl while I was gone!"

Sam frowned. "What? What are you-"

"I'm a grown man, not a little girl, I don't need the emotional crap," Dean said. "Plus, I feel like you're hitting on me." Sam stared blankly. "I'm just kidding man, chill out. You're my brother. Gosh, been hanging out with too many ditzy girls lately? They're rubbing off on you. Like that girl earlier, thought we were together. I almost gagged."

Sam studied Dean's face, his eyes, and he was being serious. The thought of them together actually grossed him out. Sam didn't know how to react. _What had happened?_ It was like he had forgotten... Or maybe he was just trying to forget it. But his words rung in Sam's head.

_I don't remember a damn thing._

**One: Cas, next chapter. Damn I can't wait. Two: Let me clear up questions you'll probably have. **

_**Dean doesn't remember Hell, what?**_** He does, but here's my theory (right or not. This is how I'm writing it): Dean doesn't remember right away, but gradually gets flashbacks, and then he remembers. Don't fret, he'll start remembering next chapter!**

_**What's up with Dean?**_ _**He doesn't remember his Sam feels?**_** I wasn't sure how I was gonna do it, but I figured it out. I'm not gonna say why (you'll find out later), but yeah, Dean forgot about the stuff with Sam. I repeat: this will be explained.**


	10. End of PART ONE

I've actually decided to call this the end of part one. I'm splitting the story in two, because the transition in pairing (Wincest to Destiel), and because I'm going to be changing up how I write. It's mostly just a writing thing for me, and I want the two things to be seperate. It will continue in the next part (link below), but I am also writing that part in a way that if someone _didn't _read this story, they would still be able to understand the other one.

So, this story will be continued here:

/s/8639802


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